Gemotions

As he approached the microphone, Mark couldn't suppress a small, bitter laugh. This whole event felt like a parody of family affection. His father, the man of the hour, sat at the head table, radiating an air of self-satisfaction that made Mark's stomach churn.

“Dad,” he began, his voice laced with a subtle sarcasm. "Congratulations on finally escaping the daily grind." He paused, letting his gaze linger on his father's face. "I'm sure you'll have plenty of time now to do all the things you always said you didn't have time for."

He continued, "Like, perhaps, building a real relationship with your son." He noticed a flicker of something cross his father's face, a momentary flash of guilt, or perhaps annoyance. He didn't care. He raised his glass, offering a toast that felt more like a curse.