My chest tightened and my throat closed. Painful images flashed through my mind before I could stop them:
My father's hand connecting with my cheek.
"You are not my son."
Nick's smirk. "Good riddance."
My mother's voice: "Stop being childish."
The disownment. The fight. The birthday dinner that destroyed everything.
I must have made a face. Some kind of expression I couldn't control. Because Alexander's demeanor shifted immediately.
His smile softened. His eyes filled with concern.
"Hey," he said gently, leaning forward slightly. "You don't have to answer that. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I just…" He paused, searching my face. "I just wanted to get to know you better. That's all."
I swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in my throat.
"No, it's, " My voice came out rough. I cleared my throat. "It's fine. I'm just… not really close with my family."
The words felt like admitting defeat. Like exposing a wound I'd been trying to hide.
