They also seed to like the sa dish, but Rohan refrained from reaching out for it when he noticed his father already taking so. Instead, he changed his mind and began eating the cut, well-prepared vegetables he hated, just so he wouldn’t prove, at least to himself, that he was similar to Ereves.
Perhaps that was the way with n; they didn’t easily get along or forget things. Belle understood that with everything Rohan had been through in his life, it would be hard for him to admit that he had forgiven Ereves, even if deep in his heart he had. She knew her husband better than anyone, and if he hadn’t forgiven his father, no one would have stopped him from throwing him out of their house when Belle had invited him. Allowing him to dine with them was already an improvent.
But Belle couldn’t help but notice the little exchange between them.
There was a ti when Rohan reached out to refill his glass of blood wine, but because his father had the honor of doing it for him first, he dropped the wine glass and instead drank from his wife’s cup, scoffing and muttering, "Don’t overdo it. I didn’t ask you to serve ."
"I am trying to learn from you. You just served your children and cut their steaks into little pieces, so I served your wine," Ereves said matter-of-factly, though there was a faint stiffness in his voice, having noticed everything his son had been doing for his children. He had given his daughter the most tender cut of steak, slicing it carefully, and had also given his son lemon juice mixed with blood alongside a blood steak, as Angel’s hunger for blood was a little stronger than his father’s.
"I am no longer a little boy; you missed the chance to baby , dear father. I am a grown man with kids and a wife, so don’t copy what I do to my children and do it to , it’s embarrassing. What are you doing? Take that off my plate," Rohan said sharply as Ereves took the vegetables from his plate, which he was forcing himself to eat, and instead placed the juicy steak in front of him.
"I am saving you from yourself, boy. Eat what you like and don’t try to turn yourself into a goat by eating leaves to prove sothing to yourself."
"I am not eating it; I don’t like steak." Rohan shoved the plate away from his front, and his children imdiately turned to look at him, including the twins he treated as if they were his own.
Angel spoke up, his tone calm. "Papa, you always tell not to be picky with my food and to reject anything I don’t want with politeness, especially because Mama made it with effort for us. You say it is right that we either eat everything on our plates or turn it down politely. You are doing exactly what you warn us against, rejecting the food served by your father with rudeness."
Rohan turned to his son, narrowing his eyes slightly at the subtle lecture. "That is different, Max."
"How is it different, Papa?" Angel asked quietly. "Grandpa is trying to make up to you. I think you should give him a chance, just like I also gave you a chance when you upset that ti. You also told that no person is too big to be babied by their parents, rember? That was when I told Mama not to squeeze my cheeks anymore. Now, you are not too big to be babied by Grandpa either."
He said all this without even looking away from the plate in front of him, where he was carefully mashing potatoes for Elle and feeding her gently, as if the conversation were the most natural thing in the world.
Rohan could not believe he was being lectured by his own son and reminded of the very lessons he had taught the boy himself. It felt as though Angel was holding a mirror up for him to see and reflect on, and instead of self-awareness, it only caused his annoyance toward Ereves to increase.
Angel was growing; he already looked like a thirteen-year-old boy. Even at that size, his mama still wanted to baby him, and whenever he tried to refuse, his father was always there to insist that he was not too big to be cared for by his mother. Now, Angel felt it was the right ti to make his papa act on those sa teachings, especially seeing how much effort his grandpa was putting in to make things right.
"You heard your son. Now be a good role model so he won’t start running away from my pampering, Rohan. Eat your steak," said Belle, pushing the plate back in front of him and biting back a smile of amusent.
"Why don’t you feed , my love? I don’t mind being babied by you," he grinned, turning to his wife. Belle rolled her eyes, but before she could speak, Ereves had forked a piece of steak and brought it to Rohan’s mouth.
"I don’t mind feeding you, sweetie," cooed Ereves in a voice like he was talking to an infant.
"Oh, for the love of hell, back off already! I don’t want to eat from your spoon. You’re irritating ," Rohan groaned. But seeing as his children were watching him and imagining himself being treated like that by them, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them along with his mouth and accepted the steak from Ereves’ fork.
When he took the steak and saw Ereves’ satisfied smile, as if a great milestone had been reached, Rohan felt his irritation begin to lt. When Ereves offered him another bite, he accepted it without hesitation.
mories of his boyhood surfaced, monts when he had been hungry in the locked attic room, wishing desperately that his mother or father would co to him, feed him, and tell him he was wanted, that he was loved. A part of him had longed for soone to call mother and father, a part he had buried deep, convincing himself he neither deserved nor needed it anymore.
That wounded part, bruised and raw from rejection, even by his mother, who would have rather died than acknowledge him as a son, leaving him feeling unworthy, stirred again and began, slowly, to nd as he watched his father’s face while feeding him.
Father... I have a father too, he thought, a strange warmth rising in his chest. Yet being a man unfamiliar with such kinship, he could not voice the feeling. He broke the mont, averting his gaze from his father’s eyes, and began to eat on his own, letting the quiet healing linger between them.
Belle, who shared her husband’s feelings, felt every flicker of emotion he experienced in that very mont.
Though no one else noticed, Rohan ducked his head to his plate, his heart still wary of welcoming his father into his world, afraid of disappointnt or being hurt again in the future. Conflicted, he froze slightly as Belle, silently understanding him, placed her hand against his thigh under the table, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. He paused mid-chew, glancing at her at his side.
You have nothing to lose by giving in to the feeling of having a father. You won’t lose anything even if he walks away from your life, for you have us now, the children and . We will not abandon you or turn our backs on you. Belle didn’t speak the words aloud, but her eyes conveyed them perfectly, and when they locked with his, he understood her just as clearly as if she had voiced them.
Thank you, Isabelle. For everything, for being in my life, for giving this family and... for inviting him, he thought, pressing his hand against hers on his thigh and giving it a squeeze. I love you.
She smiled softly, as if she had heard him, for his eyes said it all, his gratitude, his love, and the quiet healing of that wounded part of his heart.
And so the dinner continued, carrying laughter, warmth, and joy throughout the room.
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