Noah sat stiffly at the dinner table, his gaze fixed on the flickering candlelight in front of him.
The room was immaculately decorated, a testament to his mother’s obsessive attention to detail, as if every element of the evening had been meticulously planned to ensure that everything went according to her vision.
He sighed inwardly, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on his shoulders. His mother, Joyce , had insisted that he go on a date with Celeste, the supermodel she had always dreamed him to be with, on this meticulously arranged romantic dinner.
Joyce’s manipulative insistence had become a source of increasing tension between them, and this dinner was the latest in a series of attempts to mold Noah’s life according to her preferences.
The evening had started with a
