Chapter 106 Ignored
Hannah
Silence falls so suddenly it feels like the air itself has been sucked out of the room.
Timothy’s words hang there, so sharp, unyielding, impossible to ignore.
Hannah can speak.
My heart is pounding.
I don’t move.
I don’t even breathe properly.
Because for the first time since we got here… someone said it.
Out loud.
Everyone is looking at Yvonne now.
Even Timothy’s father.
Expectant.
Waiting.
And for a second, just a second, I think maybe she’ll back down.
Maybe she’ll acknowledge me.
Maybe she’ll…
She sniffs. A soft, dismissive sound.
Then she straightens slightly in her chair, smoothing down her dress like nothing just happened.
“Honestly, Timothy,” she says, her tone laced with mild reproach. “There’s no need to be so… callous.”
My stomach sinks.
“I didn’t realize asking my stepson questions was suddenly a crime.”
Her voice is light. Almost amused. Like this is all just a misunderstanding.
Like she hasn’t been deliberately ignoring me since I walked in.
I sit there quietly, my hands resting in my lap now.
I already feel small.
Smaller than I want to.
And the night has barely begun.
Yvonne finally glances at me.
But it’s not a real look.
It’s sharp.
Cold.
Dismissive.
Like I’ve personally offended her just by existing.
Then she goes right back to her food.
And continues eating like nothing happened.
Doesn’t say a word to me.
Not one.
Timothy’s father clears his throat.
The sound is loud in the silence.
He shifts slightly, then looks at me.
“Uh… Hannah,” he says, like he has to remind himself of my name.
I straighten instinctively.
“Yes, sir.”
“How have you been settling in?”
The question is stiff.
Forced. I’ve been married to his son for over half a year now.
But at least it’s something.
I manage a small smile.
“I’ve been alright. Thank you.”
He nods once.
“Good.”
And that’s it.
The conversation dies immediately after.
We all go back to eating.
The clinking of cutlery feels louder than it should.
Every movement feels… magnified.
Uncomfortable.
Heavy.
I keep my eyes on my plate.
Focus on the food.
Chew.
Swallow.
Breathe.
Just get through this.
That’s all I need to do.
Just get through it.
But of course…
Of course it doesn’t stay that simple.
Yvonne starts talking again.
Not to me.
Not even to Timothy.
Just… talking.
Like she’s addressing the room.
“Oh, I called Loretta the other day,” she says casually.
My grip tightens slightly around my fork.
Of course.
“Such a lovely girl,” she continues, her voice almost fond. “Always so well-mannered. Elegant. Graceful.”
I stare at my plate.
Don’t react.
Don’t give her anything.
“She would have made the perfect daughter-in-law,” Yvonne adds lightly.
There it is.
The jab.
Subtle enough to pass as a harmless comment.
Sharp enough to cut.
“She always knew how to carry herself,” she goes on. “And she understood the family. The expectations.”
Each word lands heavier than the last.
“She fit.”
My chest tightens.
Timothy doesn’t say anything.
No one does.
And that somehow makes it worse.
Yvonne keeps going.
Like she’s reminiscing.
Like she’s not deliberately tearing me down piece by piece.
And something inside me just…Snaps.
The sound of my cutlery hitting the plate is loud.
Too loud.
It echoes across the table.
Everyone freezes.
I don’t even realize I’ve stood up until I’m already on my feet.
“What is your problem with me?”
The words come out sharper than I intend.
Louder.
Angrier.
Yvonne blinks.
Actually blinks.
Like she wasn’t expecting that.
The room goes completely still.
Even Timothy’s father looks shocked.
Yvonne recovers quickly, her expression shifting into offended disbelief.
“I beg your pardon?”
But I’m already shaking.
My hands.
My voice.
Everything.
“I mean it,” I say, my voice trembling but steady enough. “What have I done to you?”
Her lips press into a thin line.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I let out a shaky breath.
“Yes, you do.”
I grip the back of my chair.
Because if I don’t, I might actually lose my balance.
“You’ve gone out of your way to make this uncomfortable. To make me feel unwelcome.”
My voice cracks slightly.
I hate that it does.
“Like I chose this,” I add, more quietly but no less intense. “Like either of us chose this.”
A flicker passes through her eyes.
Something sharp.
Something almost triumphant.
“Oh?” she says slowly. “So it’s truly as terrible as you make it sound?”
The implication hits instantly.
My chest tightens.
My throat burns.
That’s not…I close my eyes briefly.
This is going nowhere.
I can’t do this.
I can’t sit here and let her twist everything.
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly, even though I don’t feel sorry at all. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
My voice is tight.
Controlled.
Barely.
I don’t look at anyone.
Not Timothy.
Not his father.
Not Yvonne.
I just turn.
And walk away.
Fast.
Before anyone can stop me.
Before the tears threatening my eyes can fall in front of them. And then I’m out of the room, leaving the suffocating tension behind.