And then came that evening.
It was the usual Sunday setup—food, then control. My mom, Linda, always put on the charm with her freshly polished table, rosemary chicken, and the old-fashioned smell of lemon wax. The window panes were frost-covered, the world outside a snowy blanket. My brother, Dylan, sat at the far end of the table, staring at his new prosthetic arm—a constant reminder of the accident that had taken so much from him. My sister, Avery, scrolled through her phone, her attention elsewhere, never really bothered by any of the drama that usually unfolded.
I had learned to keep my posture neutral over the years, especially during these Sunday meals. If you stayed calm, you could sometimes make it through without becoming the family’s problem. This time, however, I couldn’t escape the trap.
Chapter 2: The Unexpected Proposal
It started off as a typical meal. My mom prattled on about who was hosting the annual holiday dinner this year, my father went on about the weather, and Dylan remained silent, probably thinking about the accident that had left him with one less arm and a future uncertain. The tension in the room was as thick as the rosemary chicken that had just come out of the oven, and I did my best to ignore it, just focusing on getting through the meal.
