Giving David’s name to the host, I followed him through the maze of white tablecloths.
“Your family is already here,” the host murmured.
As we approached the back, my steps slowed.
The table Sarah reserved wasn’t an intimate booth for three. It was a massive mahogany table occupied by eight people.
Sarah sat in the center, typing on her phone, while David laughed with his parents, his sister, and her husband.
The entire in-law clan.
The reality washed over me instantly.
This wasn’t a quiet dinner to mend fences.
It was an ambush.
I could have turned around and gone home, but running away isn’t my style. If they wanted to play a game, I wanted to see the rules.
I stepped into view.
Sarah feigned a gasp, offering a hollow hug.
“Mom, you made it.”
David and his parents gave dismissive nods.
I took the only empty chair.
“I thought it was just the three of us,” I noted calmly.
“Don’t be like that,” Sarah waved off. “We’re all family here.”
I nodded slowly.
I wasn’t family to them.
I was simply a funding source.
Before anyone could even ask how I had been for the last 2 years, the waiter appeared with a notepad.
The absolute priority of the table wasn’t my health, my life, or our relationship.
It was ordering food.
And they did it with a ravenous intensity that was almost embarrassing to watch.