The clatter of cutlery was too loud. Too sharp. Every sound felt like judgment thrown across the dining table. Julia sat between her mother’s rigid poise and Brandon’s calm, rain-dampened presence, aware that one wrong breath could shatter the fragile peace holding the room together. It wasn’t dinner—it was a verdict waiting to be delivered.
Brandon sat straight-backed, hands steady on his lap. Mrs. Bailey watched him the way a hawk watched prey: unmoving, unblinking, already convinced of the outcome. Julia’s throat tightened with every passing second.
Mrs. Bailey cut into her chicken with sharp, deliberate motions. “Tell me, Mr. Hughes,” she said, tone crisp enough to slice skin, “does your family approve of her?”
Julia froze. Her fingers tightened around her fork. She wanted to sink t
