The next day, Quinn found herself staring at the formal outfit Ava had laid out for her, her stomach twisting in knots. She hadn't even realized she was clenching her jaw until her reflection stared back at her like a nervous mess.
"Do I really have to go?" Quinn asked, her voice tinged with dread. She let out a long sigh as she pulled the tailored jacket over her shoulders, suddenly feeling like an imposter in her own skin.
"Yes, you do!" Ava replied from across the room, her tone as chipper as always. She was perched on the edge of Quinn's bed, inspecting her phone, clearly oblivious to Quinn's mounting anxiety. "It's family dinner, Quinn. You know how important these things are."
"I don't even know why I'm worried," Quinn muttered to herself as she buttoned the jacket. "It's not like I'm actually *engaged* to Ethan. We're faking it. All of it. This whole thing is ridiculous."
Ava tossed her phone aside and sauntered over, clapping Quinn on the back. "That's the spirit! You've got this. Think of it as 'relationship bonding.'"
Quinn shot her an incredulous look, crossing her arms. "Yeah, if by bonding you mean being interrogated about my life choices in front of a crowd of people who look like they've stepped straight out of a corporate brochure."
Ava raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by Quinn's growing discomfort. "You say that now, but you'll survive. You always do."
Quinn threw a pillow at her best friend. "I don't even *want* to survive it. I just want to bail."
Ava laughed as she caught the pillow mid-air. "Too late for that, sweetheart. The dinner is already planned, and you're going. You might as well be a little bit charming while you're at it."
"Charming? I'm more likely to *accidentally* say something inappropriate and end up in an awkward silence for the rest of my life."
Ava just grinned. "I'm counting on it."
---
At the dinner, Quinn was already feeling out of place the moment she stepped into the grand dining room. The long, polished oak table stretched out in front of her like a runway at a fashion show. The walls were adorned with classic art, and the soft clink of silverware hitting porcelain seemed to echo louder than usual in the cavernous space.
Ethan's parents, seated at either end of the table, looked like they belonged in some fancy magazine, with their perfectly tailored outfits and calm, composed expressions. Ethan's father, a sharp-dressed man with piercing eyes and a commanding presence, exuded an air of authority that made Quinn's stomach twist. His mother, on the other hand, was all elegance, her platinum blonde hair in perfect waves as she greeted Quinn with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
Quinn tried to act casual, but the tension in the room was palpable. Every movement felt exaggerated as she adjusted her seat, and she couldn't stop glancing over at Ethan, who was too busy talking to his mother about something work-related to notice how utterly out of place she felt.
It wasn't long before Ethan's mother, Mrs. Ward, turned her attention to Quinn, her gaze assessing and calculating. "So, Quinn," she began, her voice sweet yet probing, "What are your thoughts on marriage? Family values?"
Quinn nearly choked on her wine. Her eyes widened as she sputtered. "Uh... well, you know," she muttered, hoping the words would magically make sense. "I'm all about... taking it slow?"
There was a slight pause as Mrs. Ward gave her a tight smile. "Of course," she replied, but there was a subtle edge to her tone. "In today's world, it's important to build a strong foundation before rushing into anything."
Quinn almost snorted, but caught herself just in time. *Build a strong foundation? This is a business transaction, not a marriage,* she thought. Instead, she took a deep breath and said, "Right. Foundation. Big fan."
Across the table, Mr. Ward, Ethan's father, who had been quietly observing the exchange, leaned forward, his voice deep and steady. "Ethan tells us you two are engaged," he said, his words a little too blunt for Quinn's comfort. "When's the big day?"
Quinn's eyes widened, and she immediately felt the sweat pooling in the palms of her hands. She could practically feel her brain short-circuiting as she scrambled for words. "Well... no rush, I guess?" she stammered, glancing at Ethan for some sign of help.
But Ethan, who had been casually sipping his wine, looked up, his face completely blank. It was as if the question hadn't fazed him in the slightest. In fact, he almost seemed too *comfortable* with the situation.
Quinn's heart began to race. *Did he just throw me under the bus?*
Thankfully, Ethan quickly jumped in, his voice smooth and practiced, like he had rehearsed this exact moment a hundred times. "We're taking things one step at a time, Dad," he said, his tone nonchalant. "Just focusing on our careers first."
Mrs. Ward smiled serenely, but Quinn caught the glint of skepticism in her eyes. "That's admirable, Ethan. But as you know, business success is often tied to personal stability." She turned her gaze to Quinn, as if assessing whether *she* had the stability to match her son's ambitions.
Quinn forced herself to stay calm, but inside, she was starting to feel suffocated. *Business stability? Personal stability?* What did any of that have to do with her? She wasn't part of the Ward family, and frankly, she wasn't interested in pretending to be. The only thing she wanted at that moment was to escape.
Just as the conversation seemed to shift into another round of awkward questions, Quinn heard a familiar voice from the side of the table.
Ava, sitting next to her, whispered loudly, "If they say 'wedding' one more time, I'm out of here."
Quinn's shoulders shook with suppressed laughter, but she quickly muffled it with a sip of wine. "Same," she muttered under her breath, trying to keep a straight face as Ethan's mother once again circled back to the topic of the future.
The entire evening felt like one long, drawn-out interrogation. Quinn barely had a chance to speak for herself before she was asked about her plans, her thoughts on children, her family's values—*everything*. By the time dessert arrived, Quinn felt like her head was spinning. She glanced over at Ethan, who was far too busy appeasing his parents to notice how miserable she was.
---
Finally, the night began to wind down, and the unbearable tension in the air seemed to lift—only slightly. The dessert plates were cleared, and the conversations became lighter, though Quinn still felt the weight of her position in the Ward family. She was the outsider, the interloper in a world that didn't quite know what to do with her.
As they got up to leave, Mrs. Ward gave her a smile that was anything but warm. "We look forward to seeing where this 'relationship' of yours goes, Quinn. Let's just hope you both understand the importance of *commitment*."
Quinn nodded, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Of course. Commitment. Got it."
---
Once they were back in the car, Quinn finally let out the breath she'd been holding in all night. "I am *never* doing that again," she said, sinking back into the seat with a groan.
Ava, who had been far too entertained by the entire ordeal, gave her a cheeky grin. "Well, you survived, didn't you? And I think you were absolutely charming—*in your own way*."
Quinn shot her a look of mock horror. "Don't *ever* make me go through that again."
"I make no promises," Ava teased, nudging her with a playful grin. "But hey, look on the bright side. At least you didn't spill anything on them. That would've been *too* perfect."
Quinn couldn't help but laugh, the tension from the evening slowly easing out of her system. "Yeah. And I didn't accidentally punch anyone in the face, either. So, all things considered, it was a win."
Ava smirked. "I still say you should've punched Ethan's dad."
Quinn burst into laughter, the absurdity of the night finally settling in. "Yeah, next time I'll make sure to bring the boxing gloves."