With everyone settled in their seats, I proceeded to serve them their meals as usual, but this time with extraordinary caution and care.
Once I was done, I turned, carelessly letting my hair sway with my movement as I walked toward the door leading to the kitchen.
"Is she not joining us for dinner?" Bruce asked softly.
"Stella, aren't you eating?" my father asked, feigning ignorance of the unspoken rule in the family. My footsteps faltered, my heart raced. Slowly, I turned around, my gaze lowered to the floor to conceal the cold smirk on my lips.
Whatever the purpose was for Bruce to ask for my presence at the table wasn't mine to consider; rather, it was all to my benefit.
"You sit down and let's eat. We're still a family after all," he said, not sparing me any glance.
I walked to the table, my steps reluctant and contemplative.
"What's the problem?" my father snapped at me impatientlt.
"Where do I sit?" I muttered softly.
Phina's fist clenched by her side. No doubt she was already uncomfortable with my presence at the table.
"Beside your mother," he said, his attention and focus drawn to the phone that buzzed with a notification.
I looked around the table. Sitting beside my mother meant only one option—sitting face-to-face with Bruce.
I nearly laughed at my father's unconscious arrangement.
Didn't that mean his gaze would be on me all through the meal?
Well, well, well, I really felt the need to thank my dad for this rare opportunity.
As for my sister, Phina, she glared at me, her eyes spewing daggers. This resolution was not in her favour, and uncomfortable? She felt it so much.
"Dad," she called softly. "Why don't you let her sit beside me?" she asked softly.
I raised my brow inquisitively, but rather, she met mine with a challenge.
"You already have Bruce seated beside you. Let her sit there; besides, it is more convenient," Father answered without sparing her another glance.
My sister didn't expect she would be losing this round entirely.
I took a deep breath, pulled out the seat beside my mother, and calmly settled opposite Bruce.
And the meal began after my father had said the prayers.
Sometime into the meal, Phina broke the tranquility with her questions.
"Sister," Phina called out sweetly.
My hand faltered briefly before I resumed eating. Whatever Phina wanted to say was definitely not in my favour. I felt weary, yet I kept a calm expression as my gaze narrowed at her.
"What do you need?" I asked her.
"Did you make the draft?" she asked.
I continued eating in silence. "What draft was that?" Bruce asked.
Her face beamed with a bright smile, her gaze cold and challenging. I took a cup of water and took a sip to conceal the laughter threatening to spill from my lips.
"Oh! I forgot to tell you. Dad had my sister help me in arranging the wedding," she said with a wide smile plastered across her face.
Bruce's expression cracked, his gaze trained on me, his heart thumping against his chest. "Is that true?" he asked no one in particular, but I was certain that question was meant for me.
"Bruce, I asked her to draft a design for the hall since she knows about designing."
My heart dropped as their gaze snapped to me. "You know how to design?" Bruce asked, his surprise unconcealed.
A bitter smile crept up my lips. I had always had my sketchbook with me, and never for once had he noticed it, nor had he asked what it was.
I had always thought he was aware of what the book held, but listening to his shocked voice about me being able to design, I had one conclusion.
I had been the only one living out that memory.
"Stella, do you design?" my father asked, his calculative gaze trained on me.
"No, Dad. I was trying to learn from a tutorial," I answered, meeting his gaze head-on.
Bruce sighed with relief at my declaration. "Phina, you don't have to mess around. Let the event planner handle the task."
"Bruce, you don't get it. My sister's designs are top-notch, just like any veteran," she pressed.
"Bruce, if Phina believes Stella can do the design, let her do it. Besides, they are sisters, and helping each other is the most natural."
"Also, my sister can understand my taste, right?" she smirked, her voice subtly edged with challenge.
I sighed. "Yes, I have come to understand more about your taste lately."
Phina's smile faltered, her hand trembled slightly. "Stella, I know you might still feel bad about the issue between me and Bruce, but you have…."
"Well, I don't feel bad," I cut in quickly, not giving her the chance. "Dad already had a suitor waiting for me, and I can only wish you luck."
"What suitor?" Bruce snapped, his voice several decibels higher.
"Someone showed interest in marrying her, so I let her go," my father explained briefly.
Bruce swallowed, his hand tightening subtly against his fork.
I chuckled at his reaction. "But sister, Bruce is quite picky with his meals and also prefers a home-cooked meal. I worry about you," I smirked.
Bruce swallowed and lowered his gaze, pretending to scoop food into his mouth. My dad and sister had their gaze trained on him.
Were they hoping he would refute this truth I have known over the years?
Ridiculous.
"Also, has he ever told you how he cherishes the vegetable soup I prepare? Just the reason why I had made an extra dish of vegetable soup for him... as my farewell," I muttered.
"Stella!" she screamed, her veins bulging.
I flinched. "Sister, I hope you are not angry. I can always teach you how to make it for him," I sighed resignedly. "I just hope you won't hold it against him."
The table fell into pin-drop silence aside from their laboured breathing at the truth glaring at them. Their piercing gaze was on me, but I lowered my head to enjoy my meal with my mood lifted.
Didn't she have an exceptional skill to twist matters?
Why should I leave a leeway of retreat for her when she had plotted so much against me?
"Bruce, do you love vegetable soup that much?" Phina asked as she found her voice.