Harley
Tell me why I am sitting at this table.
Tell me why I am present in this room with them, discussing the marriage proposal of my first love to my little sister. My stomach churns, my nails dig into my palm beneath the table. They are laughing, the atmosphere is light and enjoyable. Why did I enter the room earlier? I do not want to be here. I shouldn't be here. I can leave, can't I? Just stand up and walk out the door, never look back. Wouldn't that be poetic? Finding a new family, a new lover—someone who isn't already lost to me. Yes. That's what I'll do.
My chair screeches as I stand abruptly, cutting through the polite murmur of the conversation. Heads snap toward me. I don't meet their gazes, but I can feel them—my father, rigid with disapproval, lips pressed into a snarl. My mother, her silent disappointment heavy in the air. Erin, my little sister, probably smirking, soaking in the drama like it's a game she's already won. And Clad—
