Butterflies. That fluttering sensation in your stomach. Most people associate it with love, excitement, or the thrill of the unknown. For me, it’s more complicated. Sure, I feel them when I’m dancing with my best friend at a club or acing a tough project at work. But today, there are no butterflies.Today, my stomach feels like lead, sinking deeper with every word my mother says.“We know this is a lot to process, Sophia , but it’s for the best,” she says, her perfectly manicured nails tapping nervously on the arm of the leather couch.My father, usually a silent observer in family drama, looks worse than usual. His gaunt face, framed by graying hair, makes him seem like a ghost of the man I grew up admiring. He’s hunched over in his chair, gripping a whiskey glass like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality.“‘For the best?’” I echo, my voice sharper than I intend. “You want me to marry some stranger to save your failing business? Are we in the 1800s?”My mother’s lips thin int
Last Updated : 2024-12-03 Read more