Hands clenched
Underneath the table, my hands clenched into tight fists. Every comment Sandra made felt like a dagger, and each laugh from around the table only pushed it deeper.
I tried to focus on my fiancé for support, but he was too engrossed in his conversation with his brothers.
With every forced smile and polite nod, it became painfully clear that I was alone in this battle against Sandra’s relentless insults.