Jax's P.O.V.
"Good one, Jax," Sam’s mom laughs, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Your job as a comedian is slowly getting secured."
I don’t laugh. I don’t smile. The weight of my words hangs in the air like a storm cloud, suffocating the lightness of her response.
Her laughter falters when she notices I’m not joining in. It’s subtle at first, a small shift in her expression, but it’s enough to tell me she’s beginning to realize I’m not joking.
The room falls silent. My father’s eyes narrow, the irritation clear on his face. He doesn’t respond right away, but I can feel the tension in his muscles, the way his jaw tightens. He's furious, but he’s holding it back. I can’t tell how much longer that’ll last.
I shift my gaze to Sam. Her face is pale, her eyes wide, searching for any sign
