Lena rolled her eyes with exaggerated frustration. “Here we go again with another mysterious reaction that nobody else ever seems to experience.”
“I am not pretending,” I replied while trying to keep my voice calm.
“You ate fish sticks constantly when we were younger,” she snapped immediately with clear impatience.
“That was before everything started changing,” I began explaining before my father interrupted.
“Enough arguing at this table,” he said with a firm voice that expected obedience. “Your mother spent hours cooking dinner tonight and appreciation would be the least respectful response.”
Heat rushed into my cheeks while embarrassment pressed down on my chest. I stared at the empty plate in front of me while trying to control tears because crying would immediately reinforce their favorite accusation that I was being dramatic again.