The Other Hailey

20| the hater

Veronica ran away from home.

I also ran away from home.

And now, I want to run from this very unpleasant family dinner. It hasn't been twenty minutes yet, and I'm already sick of the people gathered around this table. It's a gathering consisting of Adam's parents, his younger brother, his grandmother— whom by the way I can't stand— the devil himself, Veronica's parents and I. The combination of the two families should never have happened as the result is pure chaos. With each conversation, they try to tear the other family apart.

I'd rather stitch my own skin with a thread and needle for hours than have this dinner. Forcing someone to attend a dinner party with such people is pure cruelty.

At least I understand why Adam is the way he is; he grew up amidst this circus.

I carefully place my fork on the napkin, avoiding eye contact with the other family members at the table. I swear each time I stare a member in the eyes, they bore holes into my head as they give me judging and disapproving stares. Even Adam's nine year old sibling gives me hate gazes from across the table.

"Veronica."

Ah, shit. Again?

I reluctantly put on a smile when Mrs. Whitlock Richards calls for me. The very first minute the family dinner started, Adam's vicious grandmother put me in a headlock, and she still has me in a headlock. It all makes sense why Veronica's mother emphasized on the fact that she'll be attending today's dinner. The wrinkly woman is hell. She sucks the fun out of every conversation. She reminds me so much of the male seated beside me. With distaste blaring in my eyes, I glare at Adam before looking back at his grandmother.

"Yes, grandmother?" I squirm after saying that. Not because of the cringe, but because any time I speak or move, the corset stabs me around the waist. It turns out that Veronica wears these dresses that requires a tight ass corset for every dinner. My waist has been snatched to 19 centimeters. I cannot swallow my spit, talk less of eating the food in front of me.

Can this night get any worse?

"I hear that your dream school is Harvard," Mrs. Whitlock Richards says.

A nervous bead of sweat forms at the back of my neck. "That's right." I respond in a tired, breathy voice.

The sound of crickets grow louder as the table falls silent, so a maid rushes over to increase the volume of the classical piece playing out of the speakers.

"Harvard Law to be precise." Veronica's mother adds.

All eyes are directed towards her as she speaks.

While I was getting my hair tied up in a bun, and my makeup done, I took the time to study the notes Dimitri prepared for me. From that, I learnt what kind of person Veronica's mother is. Her name's Lilith Morales. She owns a fashion brand located in Spain, called Reina's. She grew up with expensive dreams in a poor home. As a new adult, she was made fun of for having such dreams, so she made a deal with her family to create one of the biggest fashion brands in Spain by the age of 29. She achieved her dream, and she won't stop boasting of her success story.

So, I'm guessing there's this need to see her daughter in the spotlight.

"She? She wants to be a lawyer?" Adam's grandmother questions with mockery.