"Watch your tone, young man," my father warned, his eyes narrowing. "Remember who you're talking to."

"Believe me," I said through gritted teeth, "I haven't forgotten. Frankly, your behaviour is embarrassing and you should be ashamed of yourselves."

The silence was deafening. I could feel Simone shift uncomfortably in her seat.

"Fine," Giuliana huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "We'll try to be more... welcoming."

"Thank you," I replied, my voice cold as ice. I felt the tension in the room dissipate slightly, but it still hung heavy in the air like a dense fog. I turned to Simone, who had remained silent throughout the confrontation, and squeezed her hand gently under the table.

As dinner continued, I couldn't help but feel a lingering resentment toward my family. Their words were hurtful to Simone, and although they had agreed to change their behavior, I knew it would take more than a few words from me to mend the rift their cruelty had caused. Hell, they had been this way my whole life. Why did I think they were going to be any different?

The continued commentary over the meal was continuing to fuel the fire. I couldn't believe the shallow topics and opinions that were discussed between bites. My father would discuss the business and pointedly look at me, often referring to me condescendingly. I could hardly stand it and remained silent, learning that nothing had changed. The tension in my gut thickened like a slow-simmering broth, ready to boil over at any moment. I could feel my face grow hot, my pulse pounding in my ears as I clenched my fists under the table.

"This is about more than just Simone, isn't it?"

My father's gaze hardened, and I knew I'd struck a nerve. His jaw tensed, the lines around his eyes deepening. "What are you implying, Hugo?"

"Isn't it obvious?" I shot back, my voice laced with bitterness. "You've always favored Giuliana and Giorgia over me, and now that I've found someone who truly makes me happy, you can't stand the thought of me succeeding on my own terms."

Giuliana scoffed, rolling her eyes. "That's not true, Hugo. You're just being dramatic. As usual."

"Am I, Giuliana? Am I really?" My frustration bubbled over like molten lava, searing everything in its path. "I've spent my entire life trying to fit into this family but also following my own dreams and desires, and all I've ever received in return is constant criticism and doubt. Well, I'm done trying to fit in."

"Ha! You think this is about fitting in?" Giorgia chimed in, her voice dripping with disdain. "Newsflash, brother: You've never fit in. You're so different, we couldn't care less about what you do with your life. It's just amusing to watch you squirm as you try to keep up."

"Enough!" my father bellowed, slamming his hand on the table, causing our silverware to rattle. His face had turned a deep shade of red, veins bulging at his temples. "We came here to have a civilized dinner, not air out our dirty laundry in front of our guest."

"Maybe that's the problem," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "We never talk about any of this. We just sweep it under the rug and pretend everything's fine when it's not."

"Simone," my mother interjected, her voice strained as she tried to maintain a semblance of control over the rapidly deteriorating situation. "We apologize for the discomfort this conversation has caused you. It's clear that there are issues we need to resolve as a family."

"It’s fine. I understand," Simone replied, her voice barely audible. She looked pale and shaken, and I regretted putting her through all this drama.

"Perhaps we should all take some time to cool down," my mother suggested. "There is no need to let our emotions get the better of us."

"Fine," I agreed, standing up abruptly and pushing my chair back with a loud scrape. "But I can't be here any longer. Nothing has changed. Simone deserves a better family and we have done nothing but show her our worst, which might even be our best. And as to your point, Giorgia, I take it as a compliment that I don't fit into this mess. It was all my own pipe dream that you deserved to know about my happiness."

Simone's discomfort was palpable, her fingers nervously twisting the napkin on her lap as she looked down to avoid making eye contact with anyone. My heart ached for her and my anger toward my family intensified.

"This is not the time or place for this," my mother highlighted.

"Then when is the right time, Mom?" I countered. I was pleading, yet frustrated at the same time. "We've been avoiding these issues for far too long, and they're affecting people we care about. Or those that we are supposed to care about." I pointed at Simone, embarrassed beyond belief at the situation we were currently in.

My dad stood up in anger, his face flushed red. He pointed an accusing finger at me. "You're the one who brought this woman into our home, Hugo. Don't you dare blame us for her feeling uncomfortable."

"Simone is not just some 'woman', Dad," I replied, gritting my teeth. "She's important to me, and I won't let you demean her like that."

"Important to you?" Giuliana scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Like all those other women we've heard about from the Italian tabloids? You can't even commit to your own family, let alone a relationship." I tried not to let my face show my shock and disdain. I had no clue the Italian paparazzi wouldbe following my life in Boston. I had to pause to collect my thoughts. I had to admit if they saw the women that I had spent time with over the years, there would be many photos and likely all different women.

"Maybe I could commit to this family if it ever felt like I truly belonged," I shot back, my voice strained. I was aware of Simone shifting uncomfortably in her seat, and I knew I needed to put an end to this argument before it escalated further. But I couldn't back down now, not when everything was finally being laid bare.

"Simone doesn't deserve this," I argued, my knuckles white as I clenched my fists. "It was my mistake that you could all be civilized. I apologize for believing we could be better than our past."

"Maybe if you'd stop running away and face things head-on, we wouldn't have these issues to address," my dad snapped, his voice cold and unyielding.

"Face things head-on?" My anger finally reached its boiling point. "Like how you never faced the fact that your own expectations and demands drove me away from this family? Is that what you mean?"

The room was heavy with tension, and I knew there was no going back to the pleasant dinner we had started with. As much as I wanted to protect Simone from my family's venom, I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of relief that these long-buried issues were finally being unearthed.