Dinner with Claudia's family had started on a calm note, but beneath the warmth and clinking of glasses, something felt subtly off. Claudia's face was lit up, delighted to be with her family, yet her father's presence seemed weighed down, distant, as though a shadow clung to him. I felt a pang of doubt—had I overstepped? My intentions were only to help Claudia, to protect her. Yet maybe, in my determination, I'd gone too far. I was waiting on my mother's feedback about the contract, and as the minutes passed in silence, a low unease began to gnaw at me. I feared something was wrong.
Just as we finished the main course and the waiter approached for dessert orders, my phone rang. My mother.
"Excuse me for a moment," I murmured, slipping away from the table.
Outside, I answered. "Hey, Ma. What's going on?"
"Are you bloody insane?" Her tone was razor-sharp, like a slap in the cold night air.
"What?" I stammered.
"Jude, does Claudia even know? Does she have any idea you're pushing her father toward rehab, insisting on couples therapy for her parents? Have you really thought this through?"
