Seated at the dining table, I watched as the two girls entered the room. The mood shifted immediately, and I couldn't help but take in the stark contrast between them. The first girl, Christina, moved with a poised grace that instantly caught my attention. She was elegantly dressed in a light blue off-shoulder dress with full sleeves that draped perfectly over her frame. The dress accentuated her striking features, particularly her eyes, which were further highlighted by her flawless makeup. It was clear that she knew how to present herself - everything about her appearance was immaculate, from the way her hair was styled to the subtle glow on her cheeks. She had the kind of confidence that made you look twice, yet she carried it with a quiet sophistication.

The second girl, however, was a completely different story. Andrea, from the rumours I had heard, was someone who often tried too hard. Now, seeing her in person, I could understand why people said no man would dare marry her. She wore a garish, frill-filled frock that looked more like a poorly stitched costume than an actual dress. The frock billowed awkwardly around her. The colour, an odd shade of green that clashed horribly with her complexion, only added to the disaster. She also posted it with cowboy boots. It's almost as though she had 0 fashion sense. I almost thought a sack would have looked more flattering.

Her makeup was another issue altogether - it was caked on, far too heavy and exaggerated, as if she were performing on stage rather than attending dinner with her family. It was almost painful to look at, and yet, despite her appearance, there was something about the way she held herself. Beneath the layers of frills and the heavy makeup, there was a fire, a stubbornness that I couldn't quite place.

Dante, their father, had been watching them both since they walked in, and his expression darkened as Andrea came closer. He was clearly not pleased. He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor as he glared at her with open disapproval. The tension was thick, and it seemed as though everyone at the table was holding their breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

"What are you wearing, Andrea?" Dante demanded, his voice cold and stern. There was no warmth, no fatherly affection in his tone, only harsh judgment. It was clear that this wasn't the first time he had been disappointed in her choices.

Andrea, however, didn't seem phased at all. Her expression remained calm, almost smug, as though she had expected this reaction. She gave a small, deliberate twirl in her ridiculous dress, causing the frills to flutter around her.

"It's cute, isn't it, Dad?" she replied, her voice laced with an overly innocent tone that didn't quite match the challenging gleam in her eyes. "I saw this and instantly fell in love. You always said to dress in perfection. Well, this is perfect, isn't it?"

Her words hung in the air, a blatant provocation. I could see the defiance in her eyes, daring him to contradict her in front of us. Despite her disastrous outfit, it was clear that she was no pushover. There was a rebellious streak in her, one that seemed intent on testing her father's limits.

Christina, who had been standing beside her, gently gripped Andrea's elbow, perhaps sensing the tension. It was a subtle move, one that spoke of a protective bond between the two sisters despite their differences. Christina's composed elegance contrasted sharply with Andrea's brashness, yet there was an undeniable loyalty there.

Dante gritted his teeth, his jaw visibly clenched as he fought to maintain his composure. He forced a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes, and quickly turned his attention away from Andrea. His attempt to redirect the conversation was almost comical, but he seemed determined to maintain a semblance of civility in front of us.

"This is Christina and Andrea," Dante said, gesturing to each of them. His voice had regained a strained politeness. "And girls, this is Raffaele and Michael."

As he introduced us, I couldn't help but glance at Michael, who was sitting across from me. His expression mirrored my own - a mixture of curiosity and amusement. It was clear that Andrea was going to be an interesting one to deal with. Whether that was a good thing or not, time would tell. But one thing was certain: this family dynamic was more complicated than it seemed at first glance.

A few minutes into our lunch, Matteo walked in, dressed impeccably in a formal suit. He greeted everyone briefly and made his way toward the table, heading for the seat next to Christina. As soon as he approached, I noticed Christina stiffen ever so slightly - a subtle reaction that might have gone unnoticed to anyone who wasn't paying attention. It was quick, barely perceptible, but it was there. Something in her demeanor shifted, and I couldn't help but wonder why.

Before Matteo could sit, Andrea cleared her throat loudly, drawing his attention. "Why don't you sit next to me, dear brother?" she asked, her voice high and bubbly, but there was something sharp behind her eyes, something almost threatening. It wasn't a suggestion; it was a demand masked in sweetness.

Matteo hesitated for a moment, clearly caught off guard. But not wanting to cause a scene in front of us - former enemies now turned uneasy guests - he complied, moving to the seat beside Andrea. Christina visibly relaxed once he changed seats, though she quickly returned to her composed self, pretending nothing had happened.

I glanced at Michael, who gave a slight shrug as if to say he was just as clueless as I was about the family dynamics unfolding before us.

Then, in the middle of our meal, Dante casually dropped a bombshell. "Oh, by the way, we'll be holding the wedding in two months. You two should go shopping with your mother for wedding dresses."

Christina nearly choked on her food, disguising it as a cough, while Andrea's grip on her fork tightened so much that her knuckles whitened. The rest of the lunch passed in tense silence.

After lunch, we moved to the garden with Christina and Andrea following behind. The shift in Andrea's demeanor was immediate and striking. Gone was the bubbly, overly annoying persona she had displayed earlier. She straightened her posture, her expression becoming calm and composed, as though she had shed a mask. It was almost unsettling to see how quickly she could switch between personalities. I glanced at Michael, curious if he had noticed, but his attention was fixed entirely on Christina, who seemed to be quietly reprimanding Andrea for something.

Andrea shrugged off whatever Christina was saying, clearly unfazed. As we reached a shaded area in the garden, the conversation halted, and we all stopped. The atmosphere was thick with tension, unspoken feelings simmering just beneath the surface.

"So, tell us something about yourselves," Michael said, trying to break the ice.

Andrea rolled her eyes, her earlier blank expression slipping into one of annoyance. She made no effort to respond, and the silence stretched awkwardly between us. Christina, ever the more composed of the two, softly answered instead.

"I like reading books and keeping to myself most of the time," she said, her voice gentle but distant. After speaking, she glanced at Andrea, clearly expecting her to contribute.

Andrea, however, continued to stare at us with a vacant expression, as if the conversation was beneath her. The tension grew, making the silence even more uncomfortable. Christina, perhaps sensing that things were going downhill, quickly stepped in to speak on her sister's behalf.

"She's an excellent singer," Christina said with a forced, awkward smile. "She writes songs and records them whenever she has free time."

The contrast between the sisters was stark. Christina was trying, at least, to maintain some civility, while Andrea's indifference bordered on hostility. If this was how Andrea wanted to behave, then I wasn't going to put in any more effort either. Fine by me.

Without any tact, I asked, "Are you girls on birth control pills? You need to be when you get married to us." My tone was cold, calculated, devoid of any emotion. The words hung in the air like a slap.

Christina immediately stiffened, her face flushing with a mixture of shock and embarrassment. She quickly looked away, clearly uncomfortable. Andrea, on the other hand, remained perfectly composed, her neutral expression betraying no emotion. She stared at me as if I had said something utterly absurd.

"Who says I'll sleep with you after we get married?" she asked, her voice calm, almost mocking. The question caught me off guard, and for a moment, I struggled to formulate a response.

Before I could speak, Michael stepped in, his voice quiet but firm. "I think it's about time we head out."

Christina let out an audible sigh of relief, her body visibly relaxing now that the conversation was ending. It was clear neither sister was pleased to be near us, and the feeling was mutual. This marriage was going to be terrible - I already knew that much.