The food began to arrive one by one. Black-suited waiters carried large silver trays and placed them on our table with such grace, as if they were putting on a high-class show. Plates of roast meat, clear soup with a sharp aroma of spices, warm, steaming bread, and a golden drink that looked like a precious liquid.
I picked up my spoon quietly, trying to focus on the food before me. I didn't want to overhear their conversation, but William's voice was too loud, too passionate, and sounded falsely sweet to my ears.
"Honey," William said, smiling broadly at my mother. "You look even more beautiful tonight. The light from the crystal chandelier above us is even more dazzling than your radiant face."
My mother blushed and touched her cheek. "Ah, you're so easy, William. I'm just an ordinary housewife; how could I possibly be that beautiful in your eyes?"
William laughed softly. "A housewife? No, no. You are a rare gem that God has placed in this world. Your every move, your every laugh… it seems to liven up the air. You know, I feel lucky just to be sitting at the same table as you."
I sighed softly, stabbing the meat on my plate with my fork. I thought to myself: Oh my gosh, can she stop talking like that? It all sounds so fake. Does she really not notice?
My mother's smile widened. "You're so good at flirting, William. I'm embarrassed."
William shook his head. "I wasn't flirting. I was just speaking honestly from the heart. And… Grie," he suddenly turned to me. "Do you agree? Isn't your mother incredibly beautiful tonight?"
I looked up slowly, glancing at the two of them. "Mother is always beautiful," I replied briefly, then looked back down at my plate.
William chuckled, but his eyes seemed to be staring at me meaningfully. "Look, even your son acknowledges it. Your mother's beauty is not only visible to me, but to everyone close to her."
Oh God, can I turn a deaf ear now? I thought, annoyed.
The conversation wouldn't stop. William continued to pour out compliment after compliment, like a tireless machine.
"I'm curious," William said again, sipping his drink. "If we ate together like this often, I'm sure happiness would always surround us. Just imagine, the three of us, like a warm little family. Wouldn't that be wonderful?"
My mother smiled faintly, looking down in shame. "You always talk about big things, William. I don't know if I deserve to imagine such things."
"Deserved," William replied quickly. "More than deserved. You deserve happiness, dear. You've struggled alone for too long. Let me take over all that burden."
I gripped the spoon tighter. My heart was beating fast, not from touch, but from anger. A small family? Happiness? Weren't those just sweet words wrapped in gold? He didn't even know me that well. How could he so easily talk like he was a hero who would save us?
I finally spoke, my voice flat. "William, can we just eat in peace? I'm getting a bit dizzy from all the chatter."
The table fell silent for a moment. William turned his head, then smiled again, as if not offended. "Of course, Grie. Sorry if I talk too much. I just want to liven things up."
My mother patted the back of my hand gently. "Grie, don't be like that. William just wants to be friendly. Don't be so stiff, okay?"
I swallowed hard and nodded slightly. "Yes, Mom."
But inside, my heart only grew more disgusted. Friendly? No. This isn't friendly. This is obsession. And I don't like it.
anyone's roof. My stomach suddenly felt full even though I hadn't finished my meal. Meanwhile, William was still grinning faintly, clearly satisfied with having provoked me.
The three of us finished our meal while chatting. They were the ones chatting, while I sat quietly, looking down at my slowly emptying plate. I chewed occasionally, occasionally lifting my glass and taking a sip of water. Nothing was more interesting than staring at the table, because if I looked up, I had to see William's face, always wearing that fake smile.
My mother laughed, her eyes sparkling whenever William made a joke. She looked happy, happier than I'd ever seen her. And it made my chest tighten. I didn't know if I should be happy for her, or if I should feel even more alienated.
"Grie," my mother's voice called out to me, making me turn slowly. "Are you full?"
I swallowed the rest of the food in my mouth. "Yes, that's enough."
William leaned slightly toward me, his expression calm, but there was something piercing in his eyes. "You're eating too little. Boys your age can usually finish two portions. Or... are you just not used to such sumptuous food?" He said jokingly, but I knew it was a quip.
I clenched my fists under the table. "I don't really like eating much," I replied curtly.
My mother smiled awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood. "Grie's like that, she's never eaten much."
William laughed softly, then looked at my mother. "Then you have to take better care of him, huh? Boys need energy, especially when they grow up."
I just looked down again, poking a small piece of meat with my fork, but it tasted bland in my mouth.
They continued chatting about things I didn't care about—about the holiday, about William's work, about plans for dinner the next night. I only answered when asked, and those answers were brief.
However, every time William looked at me, I could feel something. It wasn't an ordinary look. It made me feel belittled, like I was just a little kid interfering in his happiness with my mother.
I wondered, what exactly did he want from my mother?
I'd been silent all this time, letting my mind preoccupy me, as if deliberately ignoring their cheerful conversation. The glass in front of me was half empty, and I stirred the cold water, which was starting to lose its ice, with only a spoon, making a small jingling sound that occasionally echoed through their laughter. The restaurant was warm, with dim yellow lights, tantalizing aromas of food, and the boisterous voices of other diners. But to my ears, all of that felt distant, like mere echoes that hadn't reached me.
I looked down at the food on my plate, cutting off small pieces of meat and eating them slowly. The taste was bland. It was clearly delicious, but it all felt meaningless because I was too busy suppressing my irritation.
William glanced at me several times, his smile seemingly fake. I knew he wanted to talk to me. And finally, he did.
"Why are you so quiet, Grie?" he asked, his voice sounding friendly to my mother, but to me it sounded like a taunt. "Kids your age usually have a lot to say, especially about school or friends. Don't you have anything interesting to talk about?"
I raised my head slowly, met her eyes briefly, and then lowered my head again. "I don't like small talk," I replied curtly.
My mother turned to me with a surprised look. "Grie, speak politely."
I just shrugged, pretending not to care.
William chuckled, not offended at all. "Ah, so that's how it is? You're a cold kid, I see. Hmm... I wonder if you're like this around your friends too?"
I turned my head and looked at him directly. "That's none of your business."
My mother sighed. "Grie..." she said softly, her tone half-reprimanding.
But William smiled even wider, as if enjoying every sneer of my. "I understand, maybe you're not used to new people. But shouldn't we start getting to know each other? How can we get along if you keep closing yourself off like this?"
I squeezed the spoon in my hand, holding back any sharper words. "I don't need to get along with you."
A moment of silence fell at our table. My mother looked at me, then at William, as if unsure of what to do. I knew she wanted me to be more open, but I also knew William was deliberately trying to make me seem rude.
William took a slow sip of his drink, then looked at me again. "You know, your father would want to see you happy. He would also want you to be accepting of people trying to get close to your family."
The veins in my forehead nearly tensed at that. "Don't bring my father into this conversation," I said softly but coldly.
My mother immediately put down her spoon. "Enough, you two... don't fight," she said firmly, though her voice was trembling slightly.
I lowered my head again, reluctant to look at her. The dinner atmosphere should have been warm, but for me, it felt like sitting in an interrogation room.