SINcere.

relatives in the room.

Silence. The exquisite dining room is filled with its thickness. Tension. We all can feel it tugging at our hearts and is it weird that I smell it too? 

I further tighten my grip around Eve's hand, comforting her. She is sitting at my left. Our hands are strongly intertwined under the table, which is covered with an expensive patterned cloth from India. How do I know it's from the Asian country? Well in an attempt to ignore their eyes on me, I resulted into checking for a tag which read, 'made in India'. It wasn't easy, but I found it a few inches to my right. 

Someone coughs loudly. I turn my head to the left, from the interesting table cloth to the head of the table. It's the lawyer. He is probably a man of fifty. With the way he has been fidgeting and sweating for the past hour, I know that it's not because he is uncomfortable with these people; it's because he is a smoker. I smirk, as I watch him cough again and squirm in his seat, while more trickles of sweat run down his forehead. Some one's dying to get out for a smoke. I wonder then, if I could do the same after all this torture is over, but with my girl by my side, it won't happen. 

I tear my gaze away from the ridiculous lawyer, as I feel eyes on me again. I turn my head across me and my eyes land on two grey orbs belonging to a middle aged woman with cropped brown hair. She is assessing Eve and I- well mostly me. I quickly remove the small smile that was on my face. I don't blame these five people sitting across from us, for staring so much. We are the odd ones out- okay, more like am the odd one out. 

They are Eve's relatives, dressed in fancy suits, that I can't even mention their prices, in fear of instantly burning my tongue. They are all made of money. Born and raised in diamonds. While am just a carpenter, born and raised with all kinds of wood.  

Eve squirms for a bit and I then realize that she is also uncomfortable and awkward as I am. These people are her flesh and blood, yes, but their relationship is no more than a fish and its catcher's relationship. 

I tighten my hand around her hand again, realizing that my grip loosened while I was distracted with coughing lawyers and scrutinizing grey eyes. My eyes glance around the room for the umpteenth time, a not- so-new form of distraction.

The walls are crisp white with intricate paintings of landscapes, lined up in a horizontal fashion. I turn my head, ignoring the multiple eyes studying my every move, to glance out the large window behind the lawyer. The view of the outside is obscured by white lace curtains, but I take note of how sunny and bright it appears- a complete contrast to the mood in this room. Some leaves and branches rustle away in the small wind. 

Bang. The mahogany door to the right opens and shuts loudly. We all glance to the newcomer. All eyes are on him (thankfully), including my girl's and she is the one who grips my hand harder this time. As I turn my head to the right, my eyes manage to catch the twinkling sunlight reflecting off the huge chandelier hanging above us. 

''Sorry am late dear cousins.'' A melodic voice speaks, breaking the silence. 

The lawyer stands up immediately. ''No, no M.R Parkinson, it is quite alright.'' The newcomer nods and smiles, looking as rich as ever. I feel slight hatred bubbling inside of me. The lawyer walks with long strides and reaches out to shake the newcomer's hand.  

I want to laugh. Instead of a hand connecting with the lawyer's, a black and gold walking cane does the job. Rich people. Does he think that he'll catch something if he just shakes the jumpy lawyer's hand? 

''Err, very well then. Umm please do have a sit over here.'' The lawyer says awkwardly. The cane is withdrawn and the old man follows the lawyer to sit at the other head of the table. The lawyer pulls out the chair and he sits in the most superior way possible. His shoulder length white hair moves along with him as he settles down in his seat, ignoring all our stares. He pulls a phone out his jacket and slowly places it on the table.