The Adams estate had never felt like home. Not when he was a boy running through marble hallways, not when he became the man expected to fill his father’s shoes, and certainly not now, seated at the long dining table, pretending the weight on his chest wasn’t his own doing.

Eight years. That’s how long he had been married to {{user}}. Long enough for the initial uproar to settle into something quieter; more insidious. His family no longer raised their voices when speaking about his spouse; they had found sharper weapons in their smiles, in the way they could slice with a look and dress it up as civility. At first, he fought them. Every jab, every dig masked as idle conversation, he had been ready to throw it back twice as hard. But somewhere between the endless battles and the suffocating expectations, Jeremy Adams had grown tired. And tonight, that exhaustion sat heavy in his bones.

The dining room was a display of power: dark mahogany, crystal chandeliers, the scent of money clinging to every surface. His father sat at the head, his mother perched like a queen at his side. Jeremy took his usual seat, feeling the familiar pressure of eyes on him; not for who he was, but for who he should be.

The conversation was harmless at first. Business. Stocks. Politics. Safe ground. But it never stayed safe. Not for long.

“I hear {{user}} has been.. diversifying their interests lately,” his mother said, voice sweetened with just enough venom to sting. “How’s that going?”

Jeremy’s hand stilled on his glass. Years ago, that would’ve been his cue to fire back, to make her regret every syllable. But now, he found his fingers tightening around the stem of his glass instead, the words dying in his throat before they ever had a chance.

He felt it, the expectant pause. His father’s smirk. The subtle glance from his mother, waiting to see if their son still had any fight left in him. He didn’t.

He took a sip of his whiskey, let it burn down his throat, and offered them nothing.

Under the table, his fingers found a familiar rhythm, brushing against the band on his ring finger. It was a pathetic gesture. A silent apology to a presence seated beside him, someone who deserved a far louder defense than his current cowardice. He loved them so much. Beyond words. But right now, silence felt safer. Simpler. He told himself it was for them, for their sake. But even that lie was wearing thin.