8. A Family Shattered at the Dinner Table
1431 Words
The dinner started off as nothing out of the ordinary. Awkward, overly polite, wrapped in forced smiles. The long table was filled with food, but all I could taste was silence.
My father sat next to Uncle Ben—his old friend, and Tristan’s father. I sat beside my mother, with Gabriel at the far end. Occasionally, I looked up, but most of the time I just played with my fork and spoon, trying to look busy in a conversation I had no interest in hearing.
"That housing project in Bintaro—is it really sold out, Ben?" My father asked while sipping his soup.
"Yes, thankfully. That’s why I said, George should start investing in the west too. So many opportunities there."
My father chuckled and nodded. Gabriel stayed quiet. He’d been checking his watch more often than engaging in the conversation.
Uncle Ben turned to me. "Cell, what grade are you in now?"
I smiled politely. "Twelfth grade, Uncle. Preparing for final exams."
"Wow, smart girl. You look like a studious one," he said with a laugh.
"Thank goodness," My father chimed in. "Cell’s always been good with her studies."
I gave another faint smile. But inside, I just wanted to disappear. All this small talk felt like a warm-up before a ticking bomb went off. And one thing that always made me uncomfortable—when strangers called me "Cell" or "Cella." That name’s reserved for the people closest to me. Family, best friends. Not someone I barely know, sitting at a dinner table that’s too formal and too tense. Every time Uncle Ben said "Cell," it felt like someone was pulling at my skin.
Uncle Ben glanced at Gabriel. "Where are you working now, Gabriel?"
"Helping out at Papa’s office," Gabriel replied briefly.
"Nice. Have you thought about marriage yet?"
Gabriel shrugged. "Haven’t met the right person, Uncle."
Uncle Ben laughed. "Don’t wait too long. Your sister might beat you to it."
Everyone laughed. I gave a stiff smile. These kinds of conversations—so tired, so fake. And somehow, everyone pretended not to notice that we were sitting at a table slowly cracking apart. Then came the usual chorus of praise for Tristan. Uncle Ben started raving about how his son was responsible, independent, sociable, already starting a travel business.
"Tristan’s a serious guy, right Cell?" he said, locking eyes with me.
I gave a polite, frozen smile. "Yes, Uncle."
In my head: "God, can we stop talking about this guy already? I just want to go home."
Tristan grinned and said, "Oh come on, Pa. You’re exaggerating."
Suddenly, my father put down his spoon. The mood shifted.
"Cell, Uncle Ben and I want to talk to you about something important."
I looked at them slowly. My heart began to race.
"We were thinking... maybe it’d be good for you and Tristan to get to know each other better."
Tristan stayed quiet. His face blank. My mother looked down. Gabriel stopped eating.
"You mean... arranged marriage?"
"We’re not forcing anything. But if it works out, why not?"
I was stunned. My father had no idea what I thought of this scumbag. The same guy who had an affair with my mother. A man I couldn’t even look in the eyes, let alone speak to. I took a deep breath. Slowly. Trying not to explode. Then I stood up. Reached into my bag. Pulled out my phone.
"If that’s the future we’re talking about... we need to settle the past first."
Silence. I opened the gallery. Hit play. Breathing. Murmurs. Moans. My mother’s voice. Tristan’s. In the music room. My father froze. Gabriel looked at me, then at the screen. His face turned crimson. He was shocked. Eyes wide, and then—rage.
"What is this?" My father asked, voice cracking.
"A video. I recorded it when you and Uncle Ben were out for business."
Gabriel stood. Breathing heavy.
Then—
Pow!
His fist landed on Tristan’s face.
"You filthy bastard! How dare you do this to our family!"
My mother screamed. My father jumped up, trying to hold Gabriel back.
"Enough! Let’s deal with this like grownups!" My father’s voice shook.
But before things calmed down, Uncle Ben stumbled. Gripped his chest.
"Pa?!" Tristan panicked.
My father rushed to his side. "Get him to the hospital! Now!"
We all scrambled. Me, my father, my mother, Tristan—everyone got into the car. Gabriel stayed.
I turned to Gabriel, who stood frozen, jaw clenched. "Please, Gabe... just go to your room. I know you’re furious, but don’t do something you’ll regret. Don’t let anything happen to Tristan. Please."
He looked at me with eyes full of fury and pain. "I can’t stay in this house tonight, Cell. I’m done."
"Please... don’t leave like this. Papa wouldn’t want you driving around angry."
He shook his head. "I’m serious. I swear if I stay here, I’ll end up putting that guy in a coma."
He yanked his arm from mine, turned around, and slammed the door. The roar of his motorcycle echoed through the night, until it vanished completely.
------
At the hospital, we sat at the ER. For a long time. Tristan paced. My father sat with his face in his hands.
Finally, the doctor came out. "He’s stable. But we’ll keep him overnight."
We exhaled in relief. My father gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Thanks... for having the courage."
Tristan stepped forward. "Uncle George... I’m sorry. I—"
My father cut him off. "Not now. Focus on your father."
We got ready to leave.
Outside, my mother grabbed my father’s arm.
"Papa... I was wrong. I regret everything."
My father shook his head. "Not here. Don’t do this in public."
In the car? Silence. Ice-cold. Not a single word.
At home, my mother tried again.
"Please, just listen to me—one last time."
My father stared. "I don’t want to talk about this tonight. You can stay in a hotel. Or anywhere. Just not here."
My mother cried. "I have nowhere to go—"
I stood up. "Enough, Mama. Don’t make this harder. I can’t forgive you. Not tonight. Not anytime soon."
My mother insisted on staying, but my father pulled me by the arm.
"Come on, Cell. Let’s go."
We went to my father’s apartment. It was cold. Not from the AC—but from everything we carried in our chests.
My father packed a small bag. He called Gabriel.
"Gabe, Papa and Cell are at the apartment. Let us know if you need anything."
I sat on the sofa for a long time. Back resting, but my mind spinning. It felt... weird. I wanted to sleep, but I was scared to close my eyes. Scared that if I woke up, this nightmare would still be real. That my family really had fallen apart.
My father came back with two cups of hot tea. He didn’t say a word. Just placed them on the table and sat beside me. His hand gently stroked my hair. Quietly, that comforted me more than any apology ever could.
"Pa... I’m sorry. I didn’t want this to happen."
He pulled me into a hug. "This isn’t your fault. Never think that."
Gabriel arrived an hour later. His face was still tight with anger.
"So now what, Pa?" his voice low.
My father sat. Looked at both of us.
"We rest. We stay strong. We’ll figure it out tomorrow. Don’t tell Matthew yet. I’ll be the one to talk to him."
Gabriel nodded. Then turned to me.
"You’re not alone, Cell. We’re in this together."
I nodded. My tears still hadn’t dried. But for the first time, I didn’t feel alone. The absurdity of it still rang in my head. The way Uncle Ben praised Tristan like he was some angel. The same man who nearly destroyed my mother. Who nearly got arranged to marry me. How could I ever trust a world like this? Because the wounds aren’t healed yet. But at least, I don’t have to carry them alone anymore. The night grew late. My father and Gabriel went to their rooms. The apartment lights dimmed.
I stayed on the couch. Alone. Quiet.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed.
My mother.
A message popped up:
"Cell, please forgive me. I never meant to hurt you, your brothers, or Papa. I was wrong. I’m truly sorry."
I read it slowly. Then sat in silence. Staring at the screen.
Then I deleted the message. Not because I hated her entirely.
But because I wasn’t ready to forgive her. Not yet.
- Writer
