“A whole thing?” I laughed, but it came out wrong. Broken. “You proposed to her. In front of my family. On my child’s birthday!"
He rubbed his forehead like I was giving him a headache. “You’re overreacting. You always do this. Everything becomes dramatic with you.”
Something inside me cracked.
I didn’t even remember lifting my hand.
The sound of the slap echoed across the plaza. Sharp. Loud. Final.
For a second, everything stopped.
My palm burned, but it didn’t matter. The pain inside my chest was worse. Much worse.
Gusion turned his head slowly, jaw tight. When he looked back at me, there was still no regret. Just irritation.
“Wow,” he said flatly. “Did that make you feel better? Was that really necessary?”
I stared at him, stunned. I felt like I was drowning in plain sight.
Around us, people gasped. My mother’s mouth fell open. My father’s face darkened, not at Gusion, but at me.
“Miya,” my father said sharply, his voice carrying that familiar authority he used in boardrooms and press conferences. “Enough. Don’t embarrass the family!"
Embarrass the family.
Not him.
Not her.
Me.
I laughed again, but tears were already blurring my vision. “So you all knew,” I said quietly. “All of you knew.”