Celestial Ties

CHAPTER 6

As we made our way to the dining area, I couldn't help but feel the growing tension in my chest. The evening had taken a turn I hadn't anticipated, and the last thing I wanted was more chaos. But as always, my mum had other plans.

"I'll whip up something quick for us," she declared with a smile, already heading towards the kitchen. There was a certain energy in her step, the kind that said she was in control and nothing could go wrong.

"Mrs. West, can I help you with dinner preparations?" Melissa chimed in, her voice laced with a fake sweetness that made me inwardly cringe. I fought to keep a neutral expression, but I couldn't suppress the scornful thought that passed through my mind. Melissa and the kitchen were about as compatible as oil and water. The idea of her actually contributing to a meal was laughable. Melissa and any work that didn't involve looking good were simply not friends.

I watched them head into the kitchen together, their conversation filled with forced cheer. As soon as they were out of sight, I turned to Andy, my expression hardening. "Why wasn't I informed my mum would be coming?" My voice was low, but the edge in it was unmistakable.

Andy shifted uncomfortably, his eyes flicking between me and the kitchen door. "Mr. West, I was also not informed. This was a surprise for everyone." There was a hint of hesitation in his tone, as if he was waiting for me to explode. But I didn't have the energy. Surprises like this were becoming all too common lately, and I hated how they made me feel—out of control and on edge.

Moments later, my mum and Melissa re-emerged from the kitchen, each holding a dish. The aroma of sea soup and basmati rice filled the air, instantly reminding me of simpler times—when life wasn't this complex web of public appearances and private uneasiness. It was a meal that always felt like home, yet tonight it was tinged with an undercurrent of tension.

"I helped in the preparation," Melissa announced, her voice laced with that familiar note of self-satisfaction. I caught the barely concealed pride in her eyes as she looked at me, waiting for a reaction. But all I could manage was a slight nod, my expression neutral.

Andy, standing discreetly to the side, couldn't hide his disbelief. His eyes widened slightly, and I could almost hear his internal dialogue: "Helped? Really?" It mirrored my own thoughts perfectly.

"Yes, she was a great help," my mum added, her voice carrying a note of approval as she set the dishes down on the table. The way she glanced between Melissa and me didn't go unnoticed. I knew exactly what she was trying to do—push the idea of Melissa and me being a perfect couple. But that narrative was far from the truth.

As I took my seat at the table, I couldn't help but feel a wave of irritation wash over me. This wasn't just dinner; it was a calculated move, another scene in the ongoing performance that was my life. My mother, with her well-meaning intentions, and Melissa, with her strategic charm, were playing their parts perfectly. And here I was, expected to play along.

But tonight, I wasn't in the mood to be the obedient son or the doting boyfriend. I was tired—tired of the charade, the constant need to be someone I wasn't. As I picked up my spoon. Dinner went on, filled with polite conversation and the occasional forced laugh.

"I saw your new movie, Grammy. It was amazing," my mum said, her voice warm with pride. There was something in her tone that made my chest tighten, a mix of guilt and gratitude that I wasn't entirely comfortable with. I forced a smile, nodding as if her approval still meant the world to me, though deep down, I was just trying to get through the night.

"Thank you," I replied, my voice carrying a practiced ease. But of course, that brief moment of calm was shattered almost instantly.

"Mrs. West, I asked Grammy to put me in as one of the cast, but he snubbed me," Melissa interjected, her tone dripping with annoyance. "I would have made the perfect role for the pilot lady instead of that Samara girl." The way she said Samara's name, as if it left a bitter taste in her mouth, was almost laughable. Almost.