Page 94 of The Jaded Notes

“Enjoy and be sure to let me know if you need anything else.” She smiles before slipping away.

I stare at the food, my stomach twisting too much to even imagine swallowing.

My mom picks up her knife. Her hand shakes so violentlythat it clatters against the china. My dad exhales through his nose like a man willing himself back in control.

Jax doesn’t touch his plate. His stare stays on me, and quiet pride burns in his warm eyes louder than anything my parents can say.

And I sit, caught between the carnage of a truth finally spoken and the absurdity of dinner being served like nothing just detonated between us.

The tension doesn’t break. It only mutates.

My dad saws into his lamb with a force that feels more like a punishment than hunger. He chews stiffly and mechanically, as if eating can restore order.

My mom cuts into her salmon, the knife screeching against porcelain. She lifts a bite halfway to her lips before setting it back down. Her appetite seems to have been extinguished by the ghost I just invited to dinner.

I spear one of my scallops, but the fork hangs heavy in my hand. The aroma makes bile churn in my stomach. I set it back down, leaving my meal untouched.

“Delicious,” my dad mutters, the single word brittle and too sharp around the edges.

My mom nods with her lips pressed taut.

“Yes, it’s lovely.” But her voice cracks in half. The pretense tastes worse than the food.

Jax doesn’t move toward his steak. His posture stiffens. It’s deliberate, like he’s claiming the space with an authority that doesn’t need volume.

His eyes fix on my parents, then drop to my hands clenched in my lap, where my nails bite into my skin.

“Do you know what Livianna does when her anxiety gets to be too much?” His tone is calm, cutting clean through the charade of dinner. “She takes those perfectly sharpened fingernails of hers and slices into her own skin.”

My mom’s hand flies to her mouth. My dad freezes. Hisfork hangs in midair before he sets it down. They already know this, but Jax doesn’t know that detail.

He keeps speaking. “She tells herself she’s letting Lehlani bleed out. That it’s the only way she can give her sister a place in the world, even if it’s through pain and self-harm. That’s how deep Livianna’s guilt runs. That’s how long she’s carried this secret…alone.”

Tears burn my eyes, shame wrapping tight around me. But beneath it, there’s relief. He’s saying the words I’ve never had the courage to lay bare.

I place my palm on Jax’s arm. “They already know, Jaxon.”

“Yes, Jaxon, we know.” My dad shifts as if he’s uncomfortable. “Her therapist told us it’s a superficial release. Nothing more.”

Jax’s stance doesn’t waver. “It’s not nothing, and it’s time you recognized that.”

The air grows tense. My mother’s hand curls around her wineglass, and her knuckles pale. My dad and Jax hold each other’s stares.

“I thought if I let her out,” I whisper, “maybe she could breathe and be seen. Maybe I wouldn’t feel so much like the curse you couldn’t forgive.”

My dad’s hands flatten against the table as if holding it steady will keep him from unraveling.

His voice is raspy. “Livianna…”

“You should’ve talked to us.” My mom’s tears stream down her cheeks, and her chest caves in.

I twist the napkin in my fists. “I didn’t know how. You didn’t want me to know about her. You even said you could never forgive me, so why would I go to you when I’m the person you blame?”

The table quakes with what none of us can undo. My mom pushes her plate away. Her chair scrapes the floor as she pushes back. She trembles as she clutches her purse.

“I can’t—” Her voice fractures. “I can’t sit here right now.”

My dad rises slower, his eyes locked on me, an inch between loyalty and heartbreak. He tosses bills onto the table in clipped movements, betraying the war inside him.