C7 DINNER DRAMA

"Well... here goes nothing," Hazel muttered under her breath, mustering every ounce of courage as she stepped outside the room. The door closed behind her, leading her to the sound of light chattering and the clinking of utensils echoing through the house.

As she descended the stairs, the lively atmosphere suddenly hushed into an uneasy silence upon her arrival at the dining area. The silence was deafening, and the echo of her own heartbeat reached her ears. Carl's gaze remained fixed on her, his handsome face wore a simmering mixture of irritability and power.

"She's still here?," Roselle's voice whispered.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Hazel Peters, I thought you would never show up," Greg, Carl's father, echoed with a tone that carried both surprise and disdain.

It's actually Hazel Matthews. Your son's surname. She thought, as light frown lines formed on her forehead."Good evening, Sir. Welcome, Ma," Hazel greeted politely, choosing a seat at the far end of the table. As she settled into her seat, the tension in the room grew thicker, suffocating her. Hazel tried to maintain composure, but the hostile atmosphere made every breath feel like a struggle.

Whispers filled the air. Then a loud outburst from Greg...

The room seemed to grow warmer for Hazel. She stared at the french windows, they were wide open. Still her body grew hot. Her gaze met Carl's, and his eyes communicated unmistakable disapproval.

"So..." Carl began mockingly, "how do you want to grab your food, considering the fact that, you've decided to sit far away from the rest of us?" The tension in the room rose with each word he spoke, increasing Hazel's anxiety.

"I...Er..." Sammy, the butler, moved to serve her.

"Stop!" Greg's stern voice interrupted him. "She's not handicapped, so I'm pretty sure she can do that herself. If she wants to sit closer and take her meals, no one is stopping her—unless she wants to sit there and remain foolish," he added with clear annoyance, biting into his meal.

"Hazel dear, come over and take your meal," Roselle's voice, surprisingly gentle, broke through the tension.

Hazel stared at Roselle in disbelief. Was this the same woman who usually criticized everything she does, especially the meals? "Is okay, ma'am, I'm not hungry. I'll eat when I am," Hazel replied, her appetite lost in the unsettling presence of the family.

"Are you sure, dear? You could have some of my fish," Roselle gently insisted, raising an encouraging eyebrow.

Hazel felt a sudden shock at Roselle's unexpected generosity. Where was it coming from? Normally, she would be the one hurling insults and comments about the poorly cooked food. And from then until the end of dinner, she'll lecture her on how to prepare meals, and talk about her chewing habits. It was so frustrating.

"Yes, ma'am," Hazel nodded hesitantly.

"If you say so" Roselle shrugged as she faced her supper.

"So Hazel, Greg spoke up. How's my son treating you?...Ahh, he fixed a cold eye on Hazel, you don't need to answer that. I see you're ten times better than the way you were when first arrived here. You're just here to feed off of him. Right?" Greg ended on a harsh note. Stressing the last sentence, as he took a glass and gulped it down totally

Roselle's eyes glanced at Hazel meaningful, as she took a bite from her fish. "Tell me, you were the one who prepared our meal?"

Uh-oh, here it comes. She was well prepared, and waiting for Roselle's harsh criticism. "Yes ma'am, I did" she replied, head still bowed low.

Roselle took another bite of her meal. Then took a glass and sipped half of it. "It's great. You prepared the fish to my taste"

"What?" Hazel didn't realize when it slipped out of her mouth

"Well that's too much compliments for a fish that is half cooked" Greg blurted

Roselle shot him a furious stare.

"That's not true, is perfectly cooked. Hazel did justice to our meal" she beamed at the young lady

Hazel, lifted her head up, and her eyes immediately locked with Carl's. He had been staring at her. A tiny smile played on his lips. That's not usual. She thought, as she returned his smile. A little encouraged .

Greg watched them from the side of his eyes, and suddenly became irritated. "So Hazel, what do you do to support my son? I mean you don't expect him to provide for you till you die. That's not fair for him" he asked fixing a stern gaze on the young lady

The question hung in the air, pregnant with implications. Everyone's eyes were fixed on her, waiting for a response. Hazel felt like a lamb surrounded by wolves

"Sir...I...err... She didn't know what to say

Carl won't let her start up any business. Neither would he let her learn a trade. She was basically a sit at home wife. I would really like to start up something myself" she replied less audibly

"Oh that's so clever of you" he muttered as he almost choked on his food.

"Greg, please," Roselle interjected, her tone holding a touch of reproach. "Let's not make this any more uncomfortable than it already is."

"Start up? Yourself? Or my son starting up a business for you?" He concluded with a smirk.

The words stung like a slap across Hazel's face. She fought back tears, refusing to show weakness in front of this formidable family.

The room was charged with tension. As the air grew thicker.

"Well father, I earn well enough for the both of us. And I don't need Hazel's help in providing for us" Carl spoke cautiously, trying not to offend his father

"It doesn't mean a thing, she can do better than being a stay at home wife"

Roselle shook her head disappointedly as she drained her cup. And Sammy refilled it for her.

Suddenly, overwhelming silence fell on them, as her eyes balls moved round, but her head kept staring down. She shifted her neck a little, and cleared her throat. Wishing fervently that all they'll hurry up with there dinner, so she could disappear out of their sight.

The oppressive atmosphere was suffocating, and she felt beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

"Hazel darling. Are you alright? . You look like you're about to pass out," Roselle muttered, a hint of concern in her voice. As she placed a palm on the lady's forehead.

Hazel nodded weakly and lowered her head on the table. The tableware blurred before her eyes, and the scent of the food intensified, making her queasy. Roselle watched her closely, her eyes flickering with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

"Hey! What the hell are you playing at?" Greg's deep voice bellowed

"Now is not the time Gregory. Hazel is burning up" Roselle patted Hazel's cheeks lightly

Carl's face etched with fear and a hint of worry.

"Carl, perhaps she needs some fresh air," Roselle suggested, trying to mask her distaste.

Carl's earlier words resonated in Hazel's mind, adding to the throbbing pain. Just as she contemplated an escape to her room, Greg gestured her to leave.

"Go and rest. We don't need any drama tonight," he muttered, shooting her an annoyed look.

~~~~~~~~~~

Upstairs, she was grateful for the escape. she collapsed on her bed, the headache reduced after she took a pill. Moments later, there was a light knock on the door.

Gosh, who could that be? Carl, definitely didn't need to knock before entering his own room. And Greg and Roselle knows she isn't feeling well for any more drama.

"Who is it?" She asked her voice barely audible.

The knock came again...

"Ma'am is Sammy" the voice was a little hush

Wobbling over to the door, she let the older man inside the room.

"Ma'am you have a visitor" he told her

"That's strange Sammy. I barely know anyone here. What is his name?"

"Shit! He cursed wrinkling his forehead. I didn't ask. But it's a she. And she said she really needs to see you"

"Sammy, am not in the mood for your little games." She said dismissively, and was heading back to the bed.

"Ma'am, please she said you would want to meet her, and it's urgent" he pleaded

Hazel studied the man's face. It was laced with worry and anxiety. But why? She was scared of going to meet anyone. Cause, she didn't want to meet someone that would double the trouble she already had. Damn! Who could this be?.

Confused, she stumbled back downstairs to find a plump lady with wavy hair waiting.

Moving closer, she identified the person---

"Heather!, what's going on?" Hazel asked, her voice a shaky whisper.