The soft clink of silverware against fine china echoed in the grand dining room as Vincent entered. He stood there for a moment, the door slowly closing behind him, watching his family. The table was set lavishly, a feast spread before them, the atmosphere unusually warm and inviting. For the first time in years, it felt like a family again. It was a feeling Vincent hadn't experienced since he was a child, long before he had chosen to step away from the role he was born into.
His mother, wearing a soft smile, glanced up from her plate, her eyes widening in surprise. "Vincent," she breathed, her voice full of a gentle, motherly shock. "You've come home. You've been gone so long."
Vincent, standing stiffly in the doorway, didn't immediately respond. The familiarity of his family home should have been comforting, but instead, a cold emptiness lingered within him. A place that should have been a sanctuary now felt foreign, like a distant memory he couldn't quite touch.
His mother stood quickly, her heels clicking against the floor as she moved toward him. "Why didn't you come sooner, my dear? Come, sit with us. We've missed you."
Vincent hesitated, then shook his head slightly, his eyes darting over the dinner table, the faces of his family—his father, mother, and older brother—beaming with a happiness that seemed so out of place in his mind. It didn't feel like his family anymore. Not since he had made the choice to let his older brother take the title of heir. They were living in a world Vincent had distanced himself from, a world he no longer belonged to.
"I've already eaten," Vincent said quietly, his eyes meeting his father's with a depth of sadness that he didn't want to show.