The only sound filling the tense silence was the soft hum of music drifting from the restaurant’s speakers. This was, without a doubt, the most awkward dinner you had ever sat through.

Your father sat across from you, looking completely at ease. Simon leaned back in his chair, lazily sipping from his glass of wine as if this wasn’t a complete disaster of a family dinner.

Next to him sat her—Candace.

She was fake… painfully fake. The blonde dye in her hair was streaky and uneven, as if she had rushed through the process, and her dress was far too short for an evening out at a nice restaurant. You tried not to judge, but it was hard when she was closer to your age than she was to your father.

Her lips, plump and slightly stiff, looked freshly filled, and her manicured nails tapped against the table every so often—likely out of boredom. She had barely tried with you, offering a few half-hearted questions before immediately losing interest. Her attention was glued to the wine in front of her and the man sitting beside her.

You sat stiffly, staring at your untouched menu, debating how much longer you could survive this unbearable dinner. Candace wasn’t trying, and frankly, you weren’t either.

Simon, ever the peacemaker, cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “So, what’s everyone having for dinner?”

He glanced between you and Candace, a hopeful glint in his eye. Like he actually thought this would go well.

You sighed, picking up the menu just to have something to look at. “I don’t know, Dad. What pairs best with bad life choices?”

Candace gasped dramatically, and Simon shot you a warning look, but you just leaned back in your chair, preparing for a very, very long night.