Chapter 7
Charles had been gone for ten minutes and still hadn't returned to the hall.
The birthday celebration had reached the gift-giving part.
Relatives went up one by one to hand over their gifts. Some brought jade ornaments, some brought paintings, and some brought coffee beans.
The gift Charles and I had prepared was an enamel coffee set.
I spent half a month picking it out, and Charles only sent the money at the very end.
The gift box was now sitting in the lounge.
We were supposed to present it together.
The emcee smiled and called out, "Next, let's welcome Ms. Winters and Mr. Bennett to present the birthday gift to Mr. Winters."
Applause broke out from the audience.
I stood up.
The seat next to me was empty.
The emcee called out again, "Mr. Bennett?"
Everyone turned to look at the main table.
Charles still hadn't come back.
My dad sat on the stage, and his smile was faint.
My mom's fingers were clenched tightly around her handbag.
When things were about to get awkward again, footsteps could be heard from the entrance of the banquet hall.
Charles returned at last.
Emily followed behind him, with her eyes red.
He was holding a wet wipe, probably having calmed someone down.
The emcee let out a sigh of relief.
"Good timing, Mr. Bennett. Please present the birthday gift to Mr. Winters," he urged.
Charles glanced at the stage, then at Emily.
Emily gave him a gentle push.
"Go ahead, Chuck," she said.
She was urging him, but everyone on site could tell she was trying hard to act mature.
Charles hesitated for a moment, then walked over to me.
"Where's the gift?" he asked.
"In the lounge," I replied.
He frowned.
"Didn't you bring it?" he asked.
"Neither did you," I replied.
Charles shot me a glare as if he was about to lose it but held himself back.
"Come on. You know I was checking on Emily just now," he said.
I didn't say anything.
In the end, Alex went to the lounge and came back to the hall, carrying the gift box in his arms.
When Charles took the gift box over, his expression was stormy, showing he was seriously pissed.
He and I walked up to the stage side by side.
But right at that moment, it hit me. 'This whole "side by side" thing was nothing but a performance for everyone else.'
My dad took the gift box and opened it.
The enamel coffee set was beautiful, with the patterns of my dad's favorite flower engraved on the pot.
Dad didn't smile or praise that Charles was thoughtful, like I'd imagined.
Instead, he simply nodded and said, "Thank you."
Only two words.
Dad sounded so distant, like he was taking a gift from some random guest.
Charles's hands froze.
By the time the birthday party wrapped up, it was almost 10 P.M.
Relatives started heading out one after another, everyone saying the food was good and the party was lively, yet the glances they threw my way got more and more loaded.
Mom stood by the door, seeing everyone off, her smile holding strong until the last elder stepped into the elevator. Then her expression finally crumbled.
Dad had a few drinks tonight but was still completely sober.
He didn't lose his temper in front of everyone. Nor did he put Charles on the spot in front of the relatives.
That hurt me more than if he'd lost it because Dad had swallowed all the awkwardness himself.
The restaurant manager came over to check the bill. I was about to sign when Charles grabbed it before I could.
"Let me handle it," he said.
I cast him a glance.
Back when my dad said Charles didn't need to pay for the birthday celebration, Charles didn't insist.
But tonight, it was like he suddenly decided to show he should do something to impress my parents.
The restaurant manager handed over the card reader.
Charles pulled out his bank card, but my dad stopped him.
"No, thanks," my dad refused.
"Mr. Winters, I know I didn't handle everything well today. Let me cover the birthday celebration," Charles said.
Dad looked at him, his tone steady as he replied, "It's my birthday celebration. You don't need to pay."
Charles's hands hung there awkwardly.
Then Dad turned to me. "Sophie, go ahead and sign it."
I took the bill.
The whole time I was signing, I could feel Charles's gaze on me.
After I finished signing, the restaurant manager left.
Emily was standing not far away, clutching her bag.
She must've cried a lot today, as her eyes were red and puffy.
Charles walked over and asked quietly, "Want me to give you a ride home first?"
Dad caught that.
He stopped in his tracks.
My mom glanced over, too.
Charles must have realized it was awkward, so he quickly added, "It's not safe for her to go home alone."
Aunt Zoe was still there, and when she heard that, she couldn't help but laugh.
"What about Sophie? She's been standing here alone for half the night, and she's fine, isn't she?" she shot back.
Charles's face darkened.
Emily quickly chimed in, "Chuck, I can grab a cab myself."
She turned to leave.
Charles grabbed the strap of her bag to stop her.
"It's hard to get a cab at this hour," he insisted.
"Charles," my mom called out. It was the first time tonight she'd called him by name.
She walked up to him, her voice low. "Sophie's been standing in heels all night. She's tired, too," she said.
Charles looked over at me.
The backs of my feet were rubbed raw.
I toughed it out through all the toasts, photo taking, and seeing people off, but I never complained.
Charles must have now noticed the slight limp in my walk.
His expression eased up a little.
"Alright. I'll drive Sophie home first, then give Emily a ride," he said.
Emily lowered her head right away.
"Thank you, Chuck, but I refuse. You don't have to worry about me," she said.
Charles frowned. "Don't try to tough it out."
Dad watched the scene unfold, then suddenly asked, "Has your mom arrived yet?"
Charles paused, caught off guard.
"She messaged me earlier. She's already downstairs," he replied.
Originally, after the birthday party, our parents were supposed to sit down together in a private room.
It wasn't a formal engagement but a chance to make things clear between the families.
Helen Bennett, Charles's mother, had called my mom a few days ago, saying the Bennett family felt indebted to me, and that the engagement had to be handled with class.
Mom was so happy that she went ahead and reserved the private room early.
But now, all of a sudden, I didn't want to go.
Helen had already shown up, though.
When the elevator doors opened, she walked out, holding a gift bag.
She saw the place was almost empty and called out with a bright smile. "Hello, my dear in-laws. The traffic was a nightmare. I'm so sorry I'm late. Happy birthday, Mr. Winters."
Mom's expression barely shifted.
Helen acted like she didn't notice and walked over, handing the gift bag to Dad.
"This is your birthday present. Charles picked it out. He remembered you prefer valuable coffee beans," she added.
Dad took it.
"Thank you," he said.