I was walking without thinking, heading nowhere in particular, when a hand suddenly grabbed my arm.
Hard.
"Where have you been?" a sharp voice snapped. "Do you know how worried everyone is?"
My heart lurched.
I turned quickly. "Aunt Ana…"
Dad's younger sister. Short temper. Sharp eyes. The one I feared the most.
She didn't let go.
Not even a little.
She dragged me along the street, her steps fast, angry. I didn't fight back. I couldn't.
With every step toward home, my chest grew heavier.
I had disappeared. I had scared them. And now I had to face it.
My head stayed low as I followed her inside.
The moment I entered, I knew I was in trouble.
Everyone was there.
My parents.
My grandparents.
Two other aunts. Two uncles.
Even my cousins, watching quietly from the side.
The room felt tight. Heavy. Silent.
All eyes were on me.
My chest tightened. Breathing felt hard.
I felt small, exposed, like I couldn't hide anything anymore.
Dread sank into my stomach.
I'd scared them.
Made them worry.
Guilt burned deep.
I had run away.
And the real reason I ran…
The things I saw…
I could never tell them.
I stood there, trapped, with nowhere to go.
Then my grandmother saw me and pulled me into a hug.
"Lian, you scared Grandma to death," she said, her voice shaking.
"Where did you go? We were so worried…"
Her arms were warm. Familiar. Safe.
That only made it worse.
Guilt hit me harder than any anger ever could.
Her trembling voice hurt more than shouting.
My eyes burned. Tears tried to fall, but I blinked them back.
I didn't deserve this.
Not after everything I knew.
I stayed there, frozen, everyone waiting.
My heart pounded as I opened my mouth.
I could only hope the lie I was about to tell would be enough.
"I… I…" I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.
I was never good at lying.
But right now, I had no choice.
My heart slammed against my chest, so loud I felt it in my throat. My palms were damp with sweat.
Everyone was watching. Waiting.
I took a shaky breath and forced the words out.
"I ran into a classmate at the hospital," I said.
"We went to an internet cafe together."
The room went quiet.
Heavy. Pressing.
"Which classmate?" Grandfather asked.
His voice was calm, but sharp. The kind that didn't allow mistakes.
"David," I answered quickly.
Mom's eyes flickered in recognition. She spoke at once.
"He's the son of Director Hale from the Department of Agriculture."
Grandfather paused.
His expression softened slightly.
"Not a good influence," he said at last.
"Avoid him in the future."
He nodded once. The matter was closed.
A thin wave of relief washed over me. My shoulders loosened just a little.
The lie had worked.
But only for a second.
Guilt rushed in right after. Hot. Sharp.
David was my only real friend.
The only one who understood me.
And I had just used his name to protect myself.
If anyone checked, he'd have to lie too.
And that would mean trouble for him.
The guilt twisted tighter than the fear ever had.
I lowered my head, staring at the ground.
I'd never felt smaller.
However, to my surprise, my parents didn't scold me much.
Perhaps because the whole family was present, they chose to keep things calm.
Or perhaps they sensed something deeper in my silence, something they didn't want to uncover yet.
They didn't scold me further.
They simply reminded me, over and over in calm voices, not to make the same mistake again.
Mom glanced at me with a gentle but tired smile. "Sit down and eat, Lian. You must be hungry after such a long day."
I obeyed silently, sliding into the chair at the far end of the long table, the one usually reserved for the youngest.
The seat felt smaller than I remembered, like I was shrinking under all their eyes.
Aunt Sophie smiled warmly and spoke up for me.
"It's just children being children," she said lightly. "A little playfulness is natural. One outburst isn't the end of the world."
Everyone nodded, the tension easing a bit.
Relief washed over me, soft and unexpected. The storm I'd braced for never fully hit.
But the relief felt fragile, short-lived.
My gaze drifted to Aunt Sophie's mouth as she spoke, and the memory slammed back without warning, the way that same mouth had opened that afternoon, the soft tongue darting out, wet and eager.
A creeping numbness spread through me, dulling the relief.
Her kind words now sounded hollow, fake.
Ironic bitterness twisted quietly in my chest.
She was defending me, acting like the caring aunt, while I knew exactly what those lips had been doing hours ago.
The smile on her face looked too perfect, too innocent.
Disgust flickered again, mixed with that confusing heat I hated, making my skin prickle.
I looked away quickly, focusing on my plate, but the image lingered.
No one else seemed to notice anything wrong.
The conversation moved on, light and easy, as if everything was normal.
But for me, the room felt colder, the voices farther away.
The numbness settled deeper.
Nothing felt real anymore…
Only Aunt Ana, the one who had found me, remained unforgiving.
After everyone else had spoken, the room practically turned into her personal lecture hall.
She had a fiery temper, and I had always been afraid of her.
Now, watching her red lips move up and down as she scolded me, I barely dared to breathe.
My head stayed low, eyes fixed on the floor.
I felt small again, like a little kid caught stealing cookies, waiting for the storm to pass.
Low dread sat in my stomach, weary submission keeping me silent and still.
I knew better than to talk back.
Finally, Mom intervened to end it all, calling everyone to eat.
"It's rare to have the whole family together like this. Come and eat quickly. Little sister, your nephew knows he was wrong. Don't say anything more. Come and eat. Getting angry is bad for your health."
"Okay, sister-in-law."
I breathed a quiet sigh of relief, my shoulders loosening just a fraction.
But as soon as I looked up, I met Aunt Ana's brown eyes glaring straight at me.
I quickly lowered my head again.
A strange feeling stirred inside me, low and confusing.
I had never really noticed before, but Aunt Ana was beautiful.
I was too young to see it when I was smaller.
Now, though, something about her sharp features, her lips still set in anger, made that unwanted warmth flicker again.
It mixed with the revulsion from earlier memories, leaving me uncomfortable and ashamed.
Dinner was undoubtedly torture for me.
I sat at the edge of the table, pushing food around my plate with my spoon.
The chatter around me felt distant. Fake.
Every laugh, every normal conversation only reminded me how far I was from being part of it anymore.
Their voices rose and fell, warm and easy for them.
To me, they sounded hollow, like echoes in an empty room.
I kept my eyes down, the weight in my chest growing heavier with each passing minute.
No one noticed.
No one asked what was really wrong.
They never would.
The numbness wrapped tighter, colder, until even the clink of forks and knives felt far away.
I was sitting at the table, surrounded by family.
But I had never felt more alone.