As I was quietly enjoying my meal, I noticed a woman walk towards me, her expression one of disdain. She was impeccably dressed, every inch the picture of high society. I recognized her as Daniel’s mother, a woman whose reputation for being both wealthy and demanding preceded her. She stopped directly in front of my table and looked at me as if I were something unpleasant she’d found on the sole of her shoe.

“You,” she said sharply, making sure everyone within earshot turned their attention towards us. “Who invited you? You don’t belong here.”

The room seemed to hold its breath. I felt the heat rise in my cheeks, embarrassed and unsure of what to say. Before I could respond, she continued, “You’re just some nobody from the neighborhood. I don’t know what Lisa’s family was thinking, bringing someone like you here.”

And then, shockingly, she slapped me. It wasn’t hard, more a show of contempt than violence, but the sound echoed around the room, leaving a stunned silence in its wake.

I stood there, frozen, as whispers began to ripple through the crowd. It was the worst kind of attention, the kind I’d gone out of my way to avoid all my life. I wanted to disappear, to melt into the floor and leave this nightmare behind.