No hesitation.
Mom had gone all out. Candles glowed along the center of the table. The expensive china she saved for holidays gleamed under the soft light. The smell of rosemary lamb and roasted potatoes filled the room, warm and heavy and nostalgic enough to make my chest tighten.
We sat.
Dad at the head.
Mom opposite him.
Hadley beside me, close enough that her knee brushed mine under the table. I felt the contact like a quiet reminder not to spiral.
Dinner started almost… normal.
Mom asked about the apartment. “Is the space working out for you both? I know Cal’s tours make things chaotic sometimes.”
“It’s fine,” Hadley said. “We’re making it home.”
About the pregnancy. “How are you feeling? Any morning sickness still?”
“Less now,” Hadley replied. “Mostly just tired. And craving weird things.”
Mom laughed. “Like what?”
“Burnt toast,” Hadley admitted with a small grin. “I cried over it two nights ago when I ruined a batch.”
Mom’s eyes softened further. “Oh, sweetheart. That’s normal. I craved pickles and ice cream with Cal. Drove Richard crazy running to the store at midnight.”
Dad sipped his wine. Silent.
I almost relaxed.
Then Dad set his fork down.
The sound cut through the room like a blade.
“So,” he said calmly, looking directly at Hadley, “what exactly is it you plan to do… after the baby arrives?”
The room tightened.
Hadley dabbed her mouth with her napkin before setting it beside her plate. Her voice stayed calm, but I felt the tension slide through her shoulders.
“I plan to raise my child,” she said.
Dad leaned back slightly. “And financially?”
I clenched my jaw. “Dad...”
“No,” he said sharply. “It’s a valid question.”
His gaze returned to her. Evaluating. Measuring.
“You left school, correct?”
Hadley didn’t flinch. “Yes.”
“And you don’t currently work.”
“No.”
