DINNER WITH THE FAM.

ORION.

After a refreshing cold shower, I managed to sneak in a brief nap before a staff member arrived to inform me that dinner was ready. Uncertain about the dress code, I opted for a simple yet elegant ensemble: black pants and a crisp white cotton long-sleeved shirt.

I followed the staff member out of the guest quarters, taking in the breathtaking views of the grand estate bathed in moonlight. The sheer scale of the property was awe-inspiring, with its sprawling gardens and majestic architecture, yet it still exuded a warm, welcoming atmosphere.

As we made our way to the dinner location, I couldn't help but let my gaze wander, drinking in the beauty of the place. We arrived at a stunning garden, where the soft glow of candlelight danced across the faces of the gathered guests. The moon above cast a silver glow over the scene, creating a truly magical ambiance. I felt a thrill of excitement, realizing that we would be dining al fresco, surrounded by the sights and scents of nature. The elegance of the setting was undeniable, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at the grandeur of it all.

"You don't look a day over 30, Lizzy. You've aged like fine wine, exhuding refinement and elegance each passing year. What's your secret?"

A distinguished older man with sliver hair, probably in his 50's or so remarked as I rounded the corner of the grand dining table, the soft glow of moonlight reflecting off the crystal glasses.

I settled into the luxurious chair the staff had indicated, opposite Harro, with Azalea beside me. Harro smirked when his eyes met mine and I looked away before he could see my tinted cheeks, not like he could understand the moonlight but still.

"Stop with the flattery, Sebastian. It's unbecoming of you," Harro's grandmother retorted playfully, rolling her eyes yet smiling warmly, which prompted a ripple of laughter from the everyone present. With a wide smile the older man grasped Harro's hands, his voice vibrating with excitement as he exclaimed, "SJ, my beautiful boy, I've missed you!" SJ? Who is he? I wonderd...

And then my eyes widen in surprise—the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. That's Sebastian Bishop senior, Harro's father. The realization clicked as I took in their stark differences: Harro's striking features contrasted sharply with his father's more rugged visage. They look nothing alike.

"Dad..." Harro groaned in playful annoyance, a smile lurking at the corners of his lips, "You're being gross. We talk every day," he added, allowing his father to tenderly kiss the back of his hands, a gesture I found both affectionate and endearing.

"Talking on the phone is different from seeing you in person, SJ!" his father said, his voice tinged with a playful whine. "Your old man is lonely."

Azalea snorted, her eyes sparkling with amusement, as she muttered under her breath, "Get a sugar baby or something and stop being clingy, it's gross." Her words sparked a chorus of laughter around the table, and I watched, transfixed, as they teased each other with effortless affection.

As I sat there, observing their playful exchange, I felt a pang of confusion and envy. Everything is so different than I'd imagined. Why didn't I have a family like this? They seemed so happy, so accommodating of each other's differences. The way they interacted, with such ease and familiarity, was like a foreign language to me. I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be part of a family that radiated such warmth and love.

Sebastian Bishop Senior's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at me. "You must be Orion?" he asked, his voice warm and inviting. "My SJ wouldn't stop talking about you. Good job on the new drug. We're all rooting for you, make us proud." His words were laced with genuine pride and enthusiasm, and I felt a surge of gratitude.

I swallowed thickly, taken aback by the warmth of his words, before extending my hand to him. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bishop," I said respectfully, trying to sound suave despite my inner turmoil.

Mr Bishop's handshake was firm, his grip confident. "Nice grip, the pleasure is all mine," he said with a charming smile. "Please, call me Sebastian. Mr. Bishop makes me feel old." Azalea muttered under her breath, "You are old," eliciting a chuckle from the others.

Sebastian turned to Harro, a mischievous glint in his eye that mirrored his son's. "I see what you mean," he said, his voice low and conspiratorial. I raised my brows in confusion, and Harro smiled sheepishly at me as the staff placed an assortment of exquisite dishes before us.

As I gazed at Harro and his father, I realized that despite their physical differences, they shared an unmistakable bond – a spark of mischief, the way their eyes glint in amusement when they found something funny was not lost to me. They have such deep affections for each other, it's enviable.

As Harro's grandmother offered a heartfelt blessing, we began to savor the exquisite meal before us. The dinner was a culinary masterpiece, but the warm and lively company was the true highlight. For a fleeting moment, I felt like I was part of a family, connected to these people by more than just circumstance.

However, my newfound sense of ease was short-lived. As the evening wore on, I noticed Harro's demeanor had shifted. His usual effervescent personality had given way to an uncharacteristic silence. His eyes, normally bright and sparkling, seemed subdued, and his smile was nowhere to be found.

A pang of concern settled in the pit of my stomach. What was troubling him? I knew it wasn't the food – Harro was notoriously finicky, and if he didn't like something, he wouldn't hesitate to say so. But now, he was pushing his food around his plate, his eyes fixed on some invisible point beyond the table.

The distance between us, with Harro seated at the opposite end of the table, made it impossible for me to discreetly ask him what was wrong. I was left to wonder, my mind whirling with possibilities, as the evening wore on and Harro's silence grew more pronounced.