But it was clear that not everyone at the table took it so lightly.
Cynthia Rivera blinked back tears, lowering her head to hide her reddened eyes. Steven Davis looked absolutely livid, his face drawn and pale with anger. Both sets of parents wore equally grim expressions.
Steven Davis practically exploded: “Tristan, do you even realize what you’re saying?”
Tristan kept his gaze down, quietly reaching for the box of tissues and setting it next to Cynthia. “I just want to be honest from the start,” he said calmly. “I don’t want to waste Cynthia’s time. She deserves to find someone who truly cares for her, someone who will treat her the way she should be treated. That’s not me. Forcing us together would only hurt her in the end.”
Steven slammed his hand on the table. “You! What nonsense are you spouting now?”
Tristan slid one hand into his pocket and met his father’s glare with steady resolve. “You might not believe me, but there’s someone else I care about.”
Cynthia’s quiet sobs grew louder, her heartbreak plain for everyone to see.
The atmosphere in the room turned even chillier. Mr. and Mrs. Rivera looked devastated, their faces ashen. Even Mr. and Mrs. Davis, who usually tried to maintain composure, could barely hide their disapproval.
Tristan continued, “I’m pursuing her, and if things work out, I’ll introduce her to all of you as soon as possible.”
A faint, wistful smile flickered across his face. “I don’t imagine I’ll be alone forever.”
Mrs. Davis, struggling to keep her temper in check, tried to coax him. “Sit down, Tristan. Let’s talk this through. Both your parents are here, Cynthia’s here… Where do you think you’re going? Even if you don’t want this, you should at least stay and finish dinner.”
For the Riveras, Cynthia was the apple of their eye. To see her rejected so publicly was a knife to the heart. They knew, deep down, that this was no one’s fault—feelings couldn’t be forced—but their pain quickly curdled into resentment, and their faces hardened.
Tristan glanced around at the tense faces. He paused, then asked, “If you’d like me to stay—”
“No! I don’t want you here!”
Cynthia, still tear-streaked but now burning with humiliation, looked up and shouted, “Get out! I never want to see you again. Just leave!”
Her fury and heartbreak were palpable. Tristan had hardly reacted to her tears before, but now—even he couldn’t help but sigh.
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