My heart raced. I couldn’t breathe right.
Ben stepped between us. “Mom! You don’t even know her! Please stop this!”
“I know enough,” Stella said, turning away like I wasn’t worth another glance.
Dinner was worse than any torture I could’ve imagined.
I sat at their pristine table surrounded by expensive china and judging eyes, trying to swallow food that tasted like ash.
With every bite I took, Stella seemed to get more agitated.
When I reached for another slice of garlic bread, she slammed her fork down so hard the silverware jumped.
“Ben, this must stop!”
I looked up, confused and nervous. “What do you mean? Did I… do something wrong?”
“I’m talking to my son,” she snapped.
“You and this girl,” she said, pointing at me like I was evidence. “We do not approve of your relationship. Stay friends if you must, but she CANNOT be with our son.”
The room started spinning.
“I love him,” I said, and I hated how small my voice sounded. “And he loves me. What did I do wrong?”
Stella pushed her chair back and stormed around the table toward me.
“Do you hear yourself? You’re taking up too much space in our home!”
She paused, eyes flashing.
“Don’t you think you care more about food than my son?”
The tears came before I could stop them.
Ben shot to his feet. “Mom! That’s cruel! Stop it right now!”
His father, Richard, finally spoke up, but not to defend me.
“Shut up, Ben! Respect your mother! Haven’t you learned any manners?”
I couldn’t stay there another second.
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