Orion's face darkened. His lips pressed into a thin line as he shoved a piece of steak into his mouth. "No need to rub salt in the wound," he muttered bitterly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Azzy froze, clearly startled by the comment. "I didn't mean it like that," he repeated, trying to backtrack. "It's just that…"
Leiza, sensing the rising tension, quickly intervened. "Your father just has high expectations for you, Orion," she said gently, trying to smooth things over.
Orion, however, wasn't having any of it. "High expectations?" he scoffed. "How ironic, coming from a man who abandoned us for years."
The air around the table went still. Azzy's expression faltered, his face shadowed with guilt.
