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YOUR FATHER'S knife scraped against his plate as he cut into his stake harshly, scarfing his food down as if it was his last meal. You sat across from Karina, just as you always had ever since you and your siblings were children. Xander sat next to you with Emmanuel across from him and where your mother should be sitting across from your father, there sat Amber.
The silence was deafening, the only sound being everyone's utensils scraping against the glass plates. You had stopped eating ten minutes into dinner, though; your appetite had suddenly gone as you were stuck eating dinner as a "family," as your father had put it. Amber wasn't your family, she never would be, so why did you have to eat dinner as a family where she was considered family?
Amber cleared her throat, just as she had several times since your arrival. "So, Emmanuel, how was swimming practice today?"
Emmanuel's gaze flicked to yours the moment she mentioned his name. Suppressing a sigh, you gave your little brother a subtle nod, one that only Karina and Zander would catch. Naturally, Emmanuel sought your approval; Amber had made your life difficult from the moment she entered it.
"It was alright, we learned how to flutter kick." His response was short and devoid of warmth, his tone flat as he aimlessly stabbed a green bean with his fork.
Amber hummed, tucking a strand of her artificially blonde hair behind her ear before shifting her focus to Zander, who was devouring his meal in an attempt to escape the awkwardness. "How was hockey practice, Zander?"
"Fine," he mumbled, mouth full while refusing to look over at the woman.
"And Karina? I trust you went out today?"
"Mhm. Went to the boardwalk today, tried to find a boyfriend," Karina joked, but anyone could tell that her tone was anything but sincere. Karina at least tried to play nice with Amber, which is why she was most likely your Father's favorite.
Then, Amber turned her attention to you, propping her chin in her hand. A tense silence fell over the table, prompting your father to glance up from his plate for the first time during dinner. You met Amber's gaze with a steely glare, each passing moment feeling like a standoff.
"How was your first day back at work, Y/n?" Amber inquired, her voice slightly higher in pitch but her expression devoid of any real emotion.
"Good, Amber," you began, pausing to meet your father's stern gaze from the corner of your eye. It was as if he was silently urging you to keep your response simple, to keep the niceties as he would say. "I actually work for what I need, and want... and deserve."
