They Knew Nothing

They Knew Nothing
Raellyn’s eyes widened, her breath hitching in disbelief. She had never heard Sylvia unleash such venom, to curse and scream in public, in front of her, as though decorum had simply ceased to exist. Yet, as the initial shock ebbed, a reluctant understanding pricked at the edges of her heart. If she forced herself to stand in Sylvia’s shoes to peer through the fractured glass of her grief perhaps she could see it. Perhaps pain this deep could twist love into rage, jealousy into poison.
But that sympathy didn’t make the moment any less brutal.
“Sylvia! For God’s sake!” Arsene’s voice cracked like a whip, startling everyone. He had shot to his feet, his chair scraping harshly against the floor. His eyes, usually so soft and reserved, now blazed with mortified fury. “What is wrong with you? How dare you accuse someone like this without a shred of proof? And your own brother-in-law, of all people!”
His outburst splintered the fragile tension, and the dinner table dissolved into chaos. Voices overlapped, half-shouts, half-gasps and the carefully set silverware rattled as the air grew thick with hostility. 
Raellyn’s chest tightened, her heart pounding against her ribs like a caged bird. Amid the chaos, her gaze flicked toward her mother-in-law. And there it was a shift. A flicker. Something subtle yet undeniable passed across Mrs. Chyntia’s perfectly composed face. It wasn’t a worry. It wasn’t sorrow. It was… amusement. A quiet, glinting pleasure she didn’t quite mask quickly enough.
The realization hit Raellyn like a splash of cold water. Her throat moved before her brain could stop it. Words, sharp and impulsive, tore free like the snap of a bowstring.
“Mother,” Raellyn said suddenly, her voice laced with the bitterness she had tried to swallow all evening, “are you… enjoying this? Because it looks like you are.”
The moment the words escaped her lips, regret flared hot in her chest. Damn it.
Arnav had warned her. He had told her, just be sweet tonight, Raellyn. Be patient. Be calm.
But patience had drowned in the bile of humiliation. The situation had curdled past endurance, and the noise inside her head had roared too loudly to contain. Her slip detonated over the table like a spark in dry grass.
The bickering froze. Forks stilled mid-air. Even Sylvia’s ragged breathing quieted. All eyes turned to Mrs. Chyntia.
Arsene’s face went pale. “M… Mother?” His voice trembled with something between dread and disbelief. “Tell me that isn’t true…”
Even Arnav, whose presence had loomed like unshakable steel moments ago, turned his gaze toward his mother with a slow, lethal precision. 
Mrs. Chyntia tilted her head, her lips curving into an incredulous half-smile as though she were being accused of something utterly absurd. Her voice dripped with measured offense. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. What are these looks you’re giving me?” she said, letting out a soft, incredulous laugh. “Have you truly allowed yourselves to be swayed by… Miss Raellyn’s little remark?” She gestured lightly toward her daughter-in-law, the word Miss carrying an icy edge, as if she were stripping Raellyn of her place in the family.
“How,” she continued, her tone lilting with a theatrical innocence, “could anyone possibly think I would enjoy a family argument like this?”
“You are all blind!” Sylvia’s voice rose, splintering into a ragged scream that drew startled glances from the other diners. Tears streamed down her flushed face, yet the fury in her eyes burned hotter than ever. “Raellyn is the one woman who should never have become part of this family! I’ve heard the stories you only married Arnav to get back at Arsene, didn’t you?!”
Her words cracked like a whip across the table, every syllable searing through Raellyn’s chest.
“Are you not tired of living this lie?” Sylvia’s hands trembled as she gestured wildly, her voice breaking into a sob. “How far will you go to keep destroying my marriage? To keep haunting me?”
Her accusations, tangled between bitter truths and venomous lies, slammed into Raellyn like a wave she couldn’t brace for. Her vision blurred at the edges, and a dull, pounding ache bloomed in her skull.
No… no, no, no.
This isn’t how it was supposed to go.
This dinner had been meant to be the bridge. The long-awaited reconciliation. The night they would finally bury the shards of the past and walk away with their hearts a little lighter.
But now…
Now it was carnage.
Sylvia’s sobs grew louder as Arsene wrapped an arm around her, murmuring desperate words Raellyn couldn’t hear. He tried to anchor her storm, but his own face was twisted in anguish and helplessness.
Across the table, Mrs. Chyntia sat like a marble statue, poised, untouchable, her eyes sharp and assessing. Not a single word of comfort fell from her lips. The rest of the family mirrored her silence, watching the implosion unfold as though it were a spectacle.
“Miss Raellyn,” the daughter of Mrs. Chyntia sneered, her voice as sharp as a dagger and twice as cold, “do you have anything to say for yourself? Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? Look at you, sitting here, so calm, so… comfortable. My brother’s pain, Sylvia’s grief, they’re your triumph, aren’t they? Your revenge against Arsene is complete. They’ve lost their child, their home is in shambles, and yet you sit here without the faintest shadow of guilt.”
Her lips curled, her eyes glittering with malice. “Mother was right about you all along. You are nothing but a pathetic orphan who sold herself for money. A woman who doesn’t care how many homes she destroys, so long as she gets what she wants. Bravo, Raellyn. Truly—” she let out a cold, humorless laugh “—I almost admire your shamelessness.” The words sliced through the air like a blade, leaving behind a silence so taut it hummed.
Raellyn felt her teeth clench, the muscles in her jaw tightening until they ached. Her heart pounded with the hot, suffocating weight of humiliation and rage.
What… is this?
Who gave them the right?
They knew nothing. Nothing.