The discomfort at the table was tremendously obvious. Even a stranger could tell from everyone gulping their wine so they didn't have to talk. It's was some good wine, Chardonnay, a classic.

Running my finger lazily around my empty glass, I look up to my father staring at me. I give an endearing smile and turn my focus to my leg. Where lays Tilly panting heavily due to the humid and silent atmosphere. Sitting up and giving me her usual puppy eyes I pet her soft fur as maids come in with food.

Wait... Where did all the maids come from? They weren't here yesterday, or any day in fact. How did we even hire these people?

Immediately I'm on guard. This is definitely not normal. I meet eyes with my brother Truman. Then we both immediately look at our parents and their newfound servants.

I feel myself getting a bit teary. This much shouldn't have changed within five years. Granted, five years is very long. But these changes should've taken more time. Divorce, new stepparents, a remodeled house, and now. Maids or servants. It might not sound like a lot. But growing in a semi perfect household, I just wanted the same old thing as before.

I still remember when Truman hit his elbow over by the fireplace on the same day he brought his girlfriend home and started crying. I did love the old fireplace that was made from stone but in its place is now a shiny marble built-in cabinet.

Now looking around, I feel those memories fading away. Sitting here in a whole different room, with new people who are now considered my 'family'. It just feels so very wrong, in so many ways.

My favorite memories flow through my head, knowing I'll never smell the things I did, and go to my favorite reading place because it's gone. All I have now are pictures and stories that are no longer told. I feel my head spin when my chest gets tighter, so bad I can't breathe.

Tilly brings me my bag like she did when I was younger and I took my inhaler. I always end loved how talented she was. Feeling eyes on me I give everyone a friendly smile.

"This looks incredible, is it a family recipe?" Father's new wife Margie asks like it was perfectly fine. She seemed like a nice person, someone who is unusually shy. But she said the wrong thing definitely at the wrong time.

Truman stands up and slams his fists against the table. He shouts, "How could it possibly be a family recipe, some stranger made it for this so called family gathering!"

Everyone face grew long because of his sudden outburst. Starting at my empty glass then at his, as a drop of wine slides down his glass and falls on the table. His wine still has ripples when Mothers husband spoke.

"Boy, please." Mother's husband Harold crossly shouts. His annoying voice is basically begging me to shut him up.

" He's not your son, and this isn't your family so you can just stop acting so unlawfully callow," I said motioning for Truman to sit down.

"You're too impertinent of a child to lecture a grownup." Harold shoots back. My blood boils, who gave him the right to belittle us?

As I open my mouth to say another word, no words come out. I don't want any more arguments today, the night is almost over anyway. No reason to start one. I put my hair back behind my ear, coming back to my senses. I apologetically raise my hand and glance at Truman. Knowing exactly whats going through his head, he shakes his head dramatically. Obviously disappointed.

" Truman..." I clench my teeth. " Please apologize to father's wife Margie, or excuse yourself from the table," I say, remembering what we discussed earlier. Minutes later, he mumbles out an apology.

Looking at my plate the sweet, savory aroma wafted through the moist autumn air. My started stomach to clench with hunger at the thought of sweet, honey rolls. I could only imagine the warm, fluffy bun dripping with amber-colored liquid. Plates of foreign food go empty, but still, the air was silent. It would only make sense if we go back a few months, to the 5th of February. Because just rewinding a few hours wouldn't even cover the situation we're in now.

'Sincerity inside us is what identifies us as tricksters, liars, and imposters. Moreover, the feelings and emotions we have are sometimes unreasonable. Even so, they still are our feelings that might not always be encountered by individual's but you, yourself, will constantly be able to understand them. That's what makes us civilized human beings.'