I sat at the dinner table, staring at my horrid step-mother from across the table. She was practically a child. Younger than me, and married to my father! She was not even half his age!
Yet, her father had insisted upon their marriage, I could tell. I knew she was unhappy with the arrangements. Surely, her father had decided to arrange this marriage for the advantage of her family.
She placed down her spoon and removed her napkin, asking to be excused. My father gave his consent.
She walked away quite quickly, as if there was something on her mind. I'm sure there was; she had basically been sold away to a man she didn't even love by her own father.
I supposed I could sympathize. However, that did not mean that I disliked her any less than I already did. She was quite ungrateful. My father had agreed to marry her, aiding her family, and now, even when she was being so miserable, he showed her the courtesy received by an honored guest! She was utterly thankless!