Leila
I stared at the Oriental rug beneath my feet, its intricate patterns blurring at the edges as Uncle Derek's voice cut through the silence.
"Although what Irene said was unpleasant, it does make sense." His polished shoes clicked against the hardwood as he stepped closer, the shadow of his tweed jacket falling over me like a shroud. "Today is the first time you've come back since getting married, and Lucas should have accompanied you no matter what."
Irene's laugh trilled, high and false, from the armchair by the fireplace. "That's right. Why don't you call and ask if he can come back? We can postpone dinner a bit and wait for him to come back and eat together." Her red-painted nails tapped the armrest in a rapid staccato, as if counting down to my humiliation.
"Don't wait for him
