Chapter Twelve

“You cook so well,” Mr. Oscar said with a mouth full of food.

“Thanks,” Elena’s mother, Clara, replied with a smile.

Elena felt disgusted at their action, making her scrunch her face as she faced her food back, punching the fork inside. They arrived early, helped set the table, and also set the desserts they brought. He had brought his five-year-old son, one who talked more than a five-year-old should do. He had cute, curly hair, brown eyes, and puffy cheeks, but he was Mr. Oscar’s son, and she wasn’t sharing her mother with him anytime from now.

“Are you going to get married to my father?” He said all of a sudden.

The table fell into a sudden silence, and they all raised their heads to look at him. He had said something that all made them freeze when they just arrived, and this was the second time he was dropping another,

“You look just like my mother. You have the same hair,” that was the first thing that came out of his mouth.

Mr. Oscar was the first to drop his spoon, shifting his