Delvin looked at the faces of everyone sitting around the dining table. The candlelight flickered across their features, casting dancing shadows. Their eyes fixed on him—hungry, yearning, waiting for him to continue.
"Yes."
The single word hung in the air. He stood firm, his shoulders squared, feeling the weight of their attention pressing against his chest.
"What life has taught me is this: risk it all, or play it safe."
He paused, letting his gaze sweep across each face.
"When you play it safe, you live a comfortable life. You might even die comfortably. But if you risk it all, you may lose over and over again."
His voice dropped lower, more intense.
"You only need one win. Just one. And that's all you require to live an extraordinary life. With one win, suddenly you're living the life of your dreams."
He leaned forward, palms pressed against the polished wood.
"But tell me—what is the point of living if we don't take risks? If we don't strive to be better, to be *great*?"
The question hung suspended in the air like smoke.
The dining hall went silent. Even the soft jazz playing in the background seemed to fade into nothing. The clink of silverware stilled. Ice settled in glasses with barely a whisper.
They sat frozen, lost somewhere deep in Delvin's words.
The sharp crack of applause shattered the spell. Grandma Beatrice's hands came together with vigor, her rings clicking against each other. The rest followed, a cascade of clapping that filled the room.
"Magnificent speech, Delvin."
Grandma Beatrice's eyes glittered with something fierce and proud.
"You keep surprising me. You're like a wonder, constantly opening new floodgates of inspiration. The more I listen to you, the more attached I become."
She leaned forward, her voice warm and eager. "Stay on that path, dear."
Her chair scraped against the floor as she rose, arms already extending toward him.
For a moment, Delvin thought she might actually pull him into an embrace and kiss his cheek right there at the table.
Across from him, Brenda's face transformed. Her eyes lit up, catching the candlelight until they seemed to glow from within. Her lips parted slightly, and a flush crept up her neck.
'He's not the same Delvin I've known all these years.'
Her heart hammered against her ribs.
'This version is confident, charming, and knowledgeable. Look at the way he carries himself—muscular, commanding.'
Her fingers tightened around her wine glass. She could feel the cool condensation against her palm, grounding her even as her thoughts spun.
'But I can't. Luka is waiting for me. We have plans. A future.'
Yet even as she thought of her boyfriend, her eyes betrayed her, drifting back to Delvin's profile, the strong line of his jaw, the way his eyes blazed when he spoke about greatness.
'Desire or duty. Desire or duty.'
The words pulsed through her mind like a heartbeat she couldn't escape.
George sat rigid in his chair, his knuckles white around his fork.
'I didn't know this side of Delvin existed.'
The thought struck him with the force of revelation.
'It's obvious he knows every step of the way. He's selfless, intelligent, wise.'
A strange sensation filled his chest—something between awe and determination.
'I will follow him. Listen to his advice. For the rest of my life if I have to.'
The second bottle of wine appeared, its dark glass catching the light. It was passed around, poured with generous hands. The rich, fruity aroma mingled with the scent of the meal. Conversation resumed, laughter bubbling up like champagne.
A new song drifted through the sound system—something sultry and old-fashioned. Grandma Beatrice gasped, her hand flying to her chest.
"Oh! This song!"
Her face broke into a radiant smile, years seeming to fall away. By now, the wine had painted her cheeks pink and loosened her movements.
She swayed slightly in her seat. "Let us dance and enjoy life! We never know what tomorrow brings."
She swept to the sound system with surprising grace, her fingers finding the volume dial.
The music swelled, filling every corner of the room. The living room transformed—no longer a quiet family space, but something alive, electric, pulsing.
At first, the younger guests hesitated. Delvin caught George shifting in his seat, eyes darting away. Brenda seemed to shrink into herself, fingers twisting in her lap.
"None of that now!"
Grandma Beatrice grasped Delvin's hand—her palm warm and dry, surprisingly strong. She pulled him to his feet and into the center of the room.
"Come, dance with me!"
Delvin let himself be led, feeling the rhythm take hold. Grandma Beatrice moved with the confidence of someone who'd danced through decades.
George rose next, his initial awkwardness melting as his body found the beat.
Brenda remained seated, watching. Her foot tapped beneath the table—a betrayal of her restraint.
Her chest rose and fell with quick breaths.
'I shouldn't. I should call Lukas. I should—'
But Grandma Beatrice was already extending a hand toward her, eyes twinkling with mischief and invitation.
'Desire or duty.'
The internal battle raged for several heartbeats. Then something inside her surrendered.
She stood, her legs trembling slightly, and joined the others. The music vibrated through the floorboards, up through her feet, into her chest where it matched the wild rhythm of her heart.
They cycled through dances—freestyle that made them laugh, tangos that required them to press close, salsa with its quick footwork.
Someone suggested a more sensual dance, and they exchanged partners. Delvin's hand found the small of Brenda's back, and she felt heat bloom where his fingers rested. Their eyes met, and she couldn't look away.
'The first cut is the deepest,' Delvin thought, his pulse thundering in his ears.
'I'll remember this moment forever. The way she feels, the way she looks at me.'
Grandma Beatrice watched them with knowing eyes, a small smile playing at her lips.
'Perfect,' she thought, satisfaction warm in her chest.
Delvin caught her gaze over Brenda's shoulder and understood immediately. Heat crept up the back of his neck.
'She's matchmaking. Of course she is.'
The realization clicked into place with crystal clarity.
'All of this—the dinner invitation, the wine, the dancing, pulling Brenda into the kitchen earlier.'
He should have seen it sooner.
The dinner party crested like a wave, everyone riding high on wine and music and the intoxicating freedom of movement.
About an hour later, the energy began to ebb. One by one, they collapsed onto the furniture, breathing hard, faces flushed and glowing.
Someone lowered the music to a gentle background hum. The conversation continued, but softer now, intimate.
"Brenda, can you come with me to the kitchen?"
Grandma Beatrice's voice was honey-sweet, but Delvin caught the steel underneath. A strategic retreat.
Brenda's smile faltered. Her shoulders tensed, and her eyes flicked to her grandmother's face, reading something there that made her throat tighten.
'She's going to push me toward him. I know she is.'
"Do you need help with the dishes?"
Delvin's voice cut through the moment. He could see the panic flickering across Brenda's features, the way her hands clenched in her lap.
He'd caught on to Grandma Beatrice's schemes, and something protective stirred in his chest.
Grandma Beatrice turned to him, her expression softening with genuine affection even as calculation flickered behind her eyes. She smiled—a deliberate, masking gesture.
"No, dear, but thank you for your consideration."
She paused, then added with light amusement, "We use a dishwasher to clean dishes."
'Privacy. She wants privacy with Brenda.'
Delvin read it all over her face.
The sitting room belonged to Delvin and George now.
George dragged himself across the couch, his body heavy with wine and exhaustion. He positioned himself next to Delvin, then turned to fix him with an intense, glassy-eyed stare.
"Delvin?"
His voice came out softer than intended.
"Yes?"
Delvin met his gaze, one eyebrow raised in question.
"T-the other day at Plagatoscal Blueview Hotel..."
George's throat worked as he swallowed.
"You were flirting with Jasmine. After listening to your speech tonight, I—" He took a breath.
"I support you. Go for her, brother. She's into you as much as you're into her. You two have chemistry."
His words came faster now, tumbling out.
"I just hope her father approves."
Delvin's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing.
"Are you serious about that?"
Even tipsy, disapproval colored his tone.
"I mean every word, brother. From the bottom of my heart."
George leaned forward, his hand reaching out to grip Delvin's shoulder.
"Actually, I've decided to follow you. For the rest of my life."
The declaration hung between them, raw and earnest.
'Where did this come from?'
Puzzlement crashed over Delvin like a cold wave.
'What changed? When did this happen?'
"Alright. I hear you, brother."
Delvin accepted the pledge of loyalty with a slow nod, though questions still churned in his mind.
In the kitchen, steam rose from the sink in lazy spirals. The dishwasher hummed its mechanical song.
"Brenda, tell me honestly."
Grandma Beatrice turned to face her granddaughter fully, her eyes searching.
"What do you think of Delvin?"
Silence stretched between them. Brenda's heart raced. She could feel sweat prickling at her temples despite the cool air. The seconds felt like hours, each one pressing down on her chest.