Gemotions

"So, Dad," Leo began, his voice a low rumble, the microphone almost an extension of his clenched fist. He looked directly at his father, his eyes narrowed, the room’s cheerful ambiance a stark contrast to his inner state. The decorations, the well wishes, the carefully chosen playlist - it was all a charade.

He reminisced, “I'm grateful for the opportunities you provided. The private schools. The summer camps. The… things.” He paused, letting the word hang in the air. "But I never understood why those things always came at the expense of genuine connection." He observed a bead of sweat trickle down his father’s temple.

Leo ran a hand through his hair, the gesture almost a physical manifestation of his simmering anger. "I suppose that's what happens when a man prioritizes the company over his family. I hope you enjoy your newfound free time." He didn't offer a toast, didn't raise his glass. He just stared, the silence between them a tangible thing.