Chapter 8: Dinner and Undercurrents

Jasmine's POV

Soon they returned to their conversation, and we began to eat. I focused on my plate, not quite sure how to fit into their easy conversation.

"Lily's doing wonderfully in her classes," Sophia said proudly, serving her daughter an extra helping of roasted vegetables.

"Just like her mother," Daniel added, giving his wife an affectionate look.

"Daddy, did you see the cartwheel I just did?" Lily bounced in her seat, her eyes shining. "I did it all by myself!"

"Of course I did, princess. You're getting better every day."

I saw Lily glance my way, clearly wanting to share her achievement with me too. My heart leaped - maybe this was a chance to connect? Her eyes lit up with excitement as she started to turn toward me.

"Miss Jasmine, look what I-"

"Careful with your juice, sweetheart," Sophia smoothly intercepted, placing a napkin near Lily's glass. "Tell Grandma about your new routine."

I caught the quick look that passed between Daniel and Sophia - subtle but clear. They wouldn't let their daughter get too close to the outsider. My hands clenched under the table, but I kept my face carefully neutral.

Throughout dinner, Lily kept trying to include me in her own innocent ways. When she described gymnastics, her eyes would drift to me, seeking connection with someone who understood her passion. Each time, her parents would gently but firmly redirect her attention.

Later, she tried to show me her splits under the table, but Sophia quickly put a stop to that. "Darling, that's not appropriate dinner behavior."

Every blocked attempt at connection felt like a door closing. I could see the confusion in Lily's eyes - she didn't understand why she couldn't talk to the new sister who shared her love of gymnastics. The pure innocence of her attempts at friendship only made the rejection sting more.

The conversation flowed around me like a river around a stone. They shared stories about their days, made plans for the weekend, teased each other good-naturedly. Emma was planning a study group, Daniel had a funny story from work, Daisy was organizing a charity event.

It was like watching a perfect family scene through a window - I could see everything, but couldn't feel the warmth. Every time I thought about joining the conversation, the words died in my throat. What could I possibly add? My day had consisted of being measured and examined like livestock, trying on wedding dresses I didn't choose, practicing etiquette I'd never need in the real world.

When dessert arrived - homemade apple pie that smelled divine - Lily's face lit up with childish delight. "Miss Jasmine, do you like apple pie? This is Grandma's special recipe!" she exclaimed, practically bouncing in her seat.

"Lily," Sophia's voice was gentle but carried a warning. "What did we discuss about indoor voices?"

The little girl deflated slightly, but her determination was admirable. As she ate her pie, she kept sneaking glances at me, clearly bursting to say something. When she thought no one was watching, she tried to push her plate slightly closer to mine - a child's innocent attempt at sharing.

"Sweetheart," Daniel said quietly, moving her plate back. "Remember what we talked about? Proper table manners are very important."

The message couldn't have been clearer if they'd spelled it out - I might share their table, but I wasn't part of their circle. Each gentle redirection, each subtle intervention was another brick in the wall between me and this perfect family.

I pushed my food around the plate, remembering dinners back home. William's threatening presence, Mom's vacant stare, the constant tension in the air. The Mitchells were different - they genuinely loved each other. Their smiles were real, their laughter authentic, their concern for each other sincere. It made my exclusion hurt even more.

"Thank you for joining us tonight," Daisy said later, escorting me back to my room. Her voice was kind but distant, like a teacher addressing a new student. "These family dinners are important. You'll need to get used to them."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. The sound of laughter still drifted up from downstairs - they were probably having coffee in the living room now, sharing more stories, making more memories I wouldn't be part of.

"We have arrangements to discuss tomorrow," she continued smoothly. "Be ready by nine."

"Yes, Mrs. Mitchell."

"Daisy," she corrected gently. "We're family now."

But we both knew that wasn't true. Family didn't buy and sell each other. Family didn't need "arrangements" and contracts. Family didn't shut each other out.

Alone in my room, I lay on the impossibly soft bed, listening to the distant sounds of family life continuing without me. Somewhere in this house, people who genuinely loved each other were saying goodnight. Hugs were being given, foreheads kissed, tender words exchanged.

I thought about my dad, wondering if he ever found the family connection he'd left us searching for. Did he have other children now? Did he tuck them in at night, kiss their scrapes better, cheer at their competitions? Did they get to experience the kind of warmth I'd witnessed tonight?

Tears slid silently down my cheeks. The bed might be the softest I'd ever slept in, but comfort was hard to find when you were on the outside looking in. In this house full of love and laughter, I'd never felt more alone.

I could hear Lily's voice down the hall - "One more story, Daddy? Please?" Daniel's warm chuckle in response. The sound of a chair scraping, pages turning. A father reading to his daughter, a simple act of love I'd never known.

From down the hall came the sound of Lily's voice again, bright with childhood innocence: "Can I say goodnight to Miss Jasmine too, Mommy?"

"Not tonight, darling. It's already past bedtime."

"But tomorrow?"

"We'll see."