"I apologize that you had to witness our little...family squabble earlier," Dad began, addressing Vasilis as he dug into his beef ragu.
The chefs had made an array of my favourite Italian cuisines for dinner tonight, and I'd decided on the chicken piccata—one of my favorite dishes ever. I was starving so bad, I felt like I could eat five servings of it.
Vasilis nodded tersely beside me but said nothing. I watched him push around the tiny balled pieces of his gnocchi di patate, before he then stabbed a piece with his fork and ate it.
His expression was blank.
"How are you liking the food?" Mom asked from across the table, her eyes glinting with a weird expression as she watched Vasilis swallow and nod.
"It's delicious," he said, but his expression proclaimed otherwise.
I realized then, that I'd never really seen him eat proper food.
