I hadn’t heard from my stepdaughter, Hyacinth, in what felt like forever. So when she unexpectedly invited me to dinner, I genuinely thought this might be the moment we’d finally reconnect. Maybe the distance between us was finally shrinking. I dared to hope.
My name is Rufus. I’m fifty years old, and I live a quiet, simple life. My days are filled with work, books, and the occasional TV rerun. It’s peaceful, but it can get lonely—especially when it comes to family. My relationship with Hyacinth has always been… complicated. She was a teenager when I married her mother, and from the start, she kept me at arm’s length. Eventually, I stopped trying to push through the wall between us.
So her call came as a complete surprise.
“Hey, Rufus,” she said, her voice unusually cheerful. “Want to try out this new restaurant with me?”
I hesitated. But beneath the doubt, a flicker of hope stirred. Maybe she wanted to start over. I agreed before I could talk myself out of it.
The restaurant was elegant—dim lighting, polished tables, waiters moving smoothly through the room. Hyacinth was already seated when I arrived, smiling brightly. But something felt… off. Her enthusiasm seemed a little too practiced. She ordered quickly, choosing the most extravagant items on the menu without asking what I’d like. I nodded along, not wanting to rock the boat.
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