Mateo finally smiled softly, proud. "That’s a good dream."
Alia said nothing for a few seconds. Then she finally looked at Ethan. "She’s better than you."
Ethan gasped, "Mom!"
Tara blinked, completely stunned.
She was still processing how Alia went from cold interrogation mode to full emotional ltdown in under 30 seconds.
Alia stood up, dabbing her eyes with the corner of her shawl. "Of course! He loved drama since childhood! If we didn’t buy him a toy, he used to cry in the middle of the shop and act like we abandoned him! Then he grew up—wanted car because his friends had car! Huh! Drama again!"
She looked at Ethan with narrowed eyes, her tone rising like she was just getting started.
"I always thought Sebastian will never find girlfriend... who knows he finds one first! And this one—this one doesn’t even tell he’s getting married! Why didn’t you cry that ti and say ’I want girlfriend too, mommy’? Huh?!"
Ethan opened his mouth.
"No! Don’t speak!" Alia said, wiping her invisible tears again.
"Thank God!" she said, placing one hand over her chest. "God knows you’ll never find anyone if left alone, so He made situation to force you into marriage! He pitied !"
Tara turned slowly toward Ethan, who was now slouching on the sofa, hiding his face behind a pillow.
Alia sniffled louder.
"Now I just want one thing. A baby. Let beco grandma! Though I’m too young to be one but still!"
She looked up at the ceiling like she was speaking to the heavens. "God, you took stress from , now give grandchild accidentally too... I’ll raise it better than I raised this dramatic one!"
Tara: "..."
Ethan: "..."
Mateo, her husband, quickly stood up and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
"Don’t cry, love," he said in a calm tone. "He’s finally found soone who can tolerate him. Your blood pressure won’t rise anymore."
Alia sighed deeply, leaning against him with the elegance of a queen betrayed by life.
Tara quietly sipped her water, wondering if every family was like this... or if she just married into drama full family.
"Mom! Don’t embarrass !" Ethan groaned, pulling the pillow off his face and sitting up with a pout, his ears already turning red.
Alia didn’t even blink.
"Oh please," she said, waving her hand like swatting a fly. "You’re embarrassed now? Huh! Now? Sit down. Let tell your wife the real you."
Tara blinked.
Ethan panicked.
"No—Mom, please—"
But Alia was already seated comfortably, crossing her legs like she had been waiting years for this.
"Do you know..." she said, looking straight at Tara, "when he was five years old, he made a full scene in the mall because I didn’t buy him the shiny superhero lunchbox?"
Ethan buried his face again.
Tara smiled, eyes wide.
"He lay on the floor," Alia continued, "and started acting unconscious! Told the mall people ’my mom doesn’t love anymore!’ And that’s not all..."
"Mom..." Ethan whispered, defeated.
"Then, in school," she added, eyes glinting, "he pretended to have amnesia because I forgot to pack ketchup with his sandwich. The teacher called crying!"
Mateo covered his mouth, already laughing behind his hand.
"And when he was twelve–don’t forget this, Mateo—he wrote a sad poem because we said no to video gas. He pinned it to the fridge! Title was: ’This House is a Prison.’
Tara couldn’t hold it in anymore.
She burst out laughing, clutching her stomach as Ethan groaned again.
"I WAS CREATIVE!" he shouted.
"You were dramatic," Alia said proudly.
"Still is," Mateo added helpfully.
Tara wiped tears from her eyes. "You poor thing, Ethan..."
He crossed his arms, pouting harder. "You’re all bullying ."
"We understand children are naughty," Alia said sweetly.
"But he didn’t stop his antics even when he beca adult!" she added sharply, giving Ethan a full smirk.
Tara turned her head to look at Ethan.
He was already sliding down the sofa like he wanted to disappear into the floor.
"Don’t say it..." he muttered.
"Oh I will!" Alia said proudly. "Last year, he faked a fever just so he could skip a family function. He even put hot water bag on his forehead!"
Mateo nodded helpfully, "And hid the thermoter after heating it under the lamp."
Tara gasped, her hand covering her mouth.
"It was boring!" Ethan argued, now sitting half-up, half-defeated.
"Once, he told our driver to say he was in an urgent eting just because he didn’t want to attend his own cousin’s wedding," Alia added with a sigh. "I got so many calls asking, ’What kind of big company he runs at 10PM?’ "
Tara was fully laughing now.
"Drama queen," she whispered to Ethan, shaking her head.
He pointed at her. "You’re supposed to support !"
"I am," she said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "Emotionally. Silently."
"Betrayal!" Ethan shouted, turning toward his dad. "Dad, say sothing!"
Mateo raised his teacup. "I already gave up defending you 12 years ago, son."
Ethan flopped back on the sofa.
"I’m divorcing all of you."
After family dinner, the mansion slowly quieted down, and Ethan and Tara finally escaped together.
They sat in his car—Ethan driving, Tara beside him, still smiling like she was holding in laughter but failing badly.
Ethan glanced at her with a full pout on his face, his jaw tight, ears still slightly red from embarrassnt.
"Don’t laugh." He said in a low grumpy tone, eyes fixed on the road.
Tara turned her head, still smiling, lips twitching like she couldn’t hold it in.
"Oh," she said softly. "I’m not."
But she was.
Completely.
She kept looking at him from the corner of her eyes, and every ti he exhaled or gripped the steering wheel tighter, she giggled a little more.
"See?" he said finally, huffing. "You’re doing it again!"
"I didn’t say anything."
"Your face said everything."
Tara burst into a full laugh now, hiding her mouth behind her hand. "I can’t believe you wrote a poem titled ’This House is a Prison.’"
Ethan groaned, leaning back in his seat dramatically at the red light. "I was a sensitive child."
"You’re still sensitive."
He looked at her. "You’re an."
"You’re dramatic."
"...You’re not getting dessert tonight."
Tara blinked. "You don’t even cook!"
"I’ll learn," he said proudly. "Just so I can not give it to you."
Tara giggled again, resting her head lightly on the window, her voice softer now.
"...Your family is nice."
Ethan glanced at her again.
Then, quietly, a smile appeared on his lips.
"Yeah... they like you."
"Even your mom?"
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