(JARED'S POV)
"What do you think your mother wants to talk to us about?" Sofia asked, breaking the silence in the car.
We were on the way to my mother's place for dinner the next day, and Sofia wouldn't stop worrying about the motive behind the invitation.
I shrugged. "I don't know."
"I hope it's not for something bad," she went on.
"Yeah, me too."
We drove in silence for a few more moments until Sofia spoke up again. "Are you sure you're okay? Your mood hasn't been your best since you returned home yesterday."
"I'm fine," I responded, keeping my eyes fixed on the road. There was no way I was going to tell her that I had been worried about Arielle since yesterday. No way. It was going to cause another rift.
Sofia nodded and looked out the window.
We soon arrived at my mother's house, and the butler was already waiting at the door to take our coats. My mother was a fan of having numerous staff with different job descriptions, unlike me, who liked my space.
"Welcome, sir, Madam," the butler greeted, taking the coats. "Your mother is waiting for you in the dining room."
As we walked into the dining room, my Mom rose from her seat, a bright and warm smile on her face. "Hey, dear. It's great to see you both."
"Hi, Mom," I replied, walking over to kiss her cheek.
"Hi, Mom," Sofia chimed, doing the same.
My mother's eyes sparkled as she took in Sofia's baby bump. "Oh my, you're glowing, dear. Motherhood suits you."
A blush spread across Sofia's face. "Thanks, Mom."
We took our seats, and the chef, who was standing just by the table, began to serve the meal.
"What's the occasion, Mom?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. "You said you wanted to talk to us about something important."
"Yes, I did," she affirmed, chewing her coleslaw slowly. "And it's a very delicate matter."
Sofia and I exchanged a glance, our curiosity piqued.
"What is it?" I pressed.
She paused as if collecting her thoughts before speaking. "It's about your relationship with Sofia, Jared..."
She trailed off, and I suddenly felt uneasy about the direction the discussion was about to take.
"Go on," I urged.
But before she could continue, the chef interrupted, “Would you like me to refill your glasses, Ma'am?"
She nodded. "Yes, please."
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