"I could’ve been disfigured. Blinded. Do you understand that? And you call this a ‘little thing’?"
"Charles, I’m your girlfriend. Seven years, and this is what I mean to you? Is my safety so meaningless to you?"
This time, Charles said nothing. His silence spoke louder than any excuse he could muster.
But his expression darkened, irritation flickering in his eyes. The tension between us thickened, but before I could speak, Dorothea suddenly burst into loud, theatrical sobs, her cries echoing across the restaurant.
Rubbing her eyes dramatically, she wailed like a child seeking sympathy.
"Sis-in-law, I know I was wrong! Please don’t argue with my brother anymore! I promise I’ll never eat cake again!"
Heads turned, and whispers rippled through the room like wildfire. The sight of the ruined cake on the floor seemed to spark judgment in every glance cast my way.
"What kind of sister-in-law makes such a fuss over a cake?" one woman muttered, her disapproval unmistakable.
"Exactly," someone else chimed in. "Poor girl probably didn’t mean it. So petty to cause such a scene!"