A wave of warmth washed over Selena as she looked at her parents, their faces alight with hope and expectation. The thought of leading "Connecting Hearts" alongside Lily, her sister, filled her with a sense of excitement and responsibility. She had found her purpose, her calling, in helping people find connection, solace, and even a flicker of joy in the midst of life's complexities.
 Lily, her eyes wide with curiosity, leaned forward. "Mom, Dad, what's it like running a company that helps people pretend?"
 Selena chuckled, her heart brimming with affection for her younger sister. "Well, Lil," she said, her voice light and playful, "it's not as simple as it sounds. Sometimes, we have to be detectives, figuring out what people really need, what they're yearning for."
 "And sometimes," Henry added, his voice tinged with a touch of humor, "we have to be actors, convincing people that we are someone we're not, all for the sake of a good story, or a good memory."
 Leans chimed in, her smile warm and genuine. "But the best part is, it's all about making people feel better. It's about bringing a little bit of light into their lives, even if it's just for a moment."
 Selena nodded, her eyes sparkling with conviction. "That's what makes it worthwhile," she said, her voice filled with passion. "The knowledge that we're making a difference, that we're helping people find connection, even if it's just for a day."
 As they continued their meal, their conversation filled with warmth and laughter, Selena felt a deep sense of gratitude for the love and support that surrounded her. Her family, her work, her purpose - they were all intertwined, forming a beautiful tapestry of human connection, reminding her that even in a world of pretend, true happiness could be found in the simple joy of family, friendship, and the act of making a difference...
 =================================
 EZRA BIRMINGHAM.
 The grand oak doors of the Birmingham mansion creaked open, revealing a world of opulence and tradition. Ezra, his footsteps echoing in the vast hallway, felt a familiar pang of unease. This place, his childhood home, now felt like a gilded cage, a monument to his father's wealth and his own complicated history.
 It was Saturday night, a ritual that had become an unwelcome tradition since his mother's death ten years ago. Mr. Leonard Birmingham, a man of routine and unwavering resolve, had decreed that every Saturday evening, the family would gather for dinner, a somber reminder of the life they once shared.
 Ezra, now a successful businessman, couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider, a guest in his own home. His father, a man of few words and an even colder heart, had never truly accepted Victoria, his new wife, as a part of the family. Ezra felt a similar disconnect, a deep-seated resentment towards her, a feeling that had festered over the years.
 "Ezra, darling," Victoria's voice, a saccharine sweetness that always grated on his nerves, sliced through his thoughts. "How lovely to see you."
 Ezra forced a smile, his eyes meeting hers for a fleeting moment before he turned away. "Hi, Victoria," he mumbled, his voice a monotone.
 Her smile, a perfect, porcelain facade, didn't reach her eyes. "It's so nice to have you join us for dinner again."
 "It's... a tradition," he replied, his words clipped and curt.
 Victoria, oblivious to his curt tone, continued to chat, her voice a constant drone in the background. "Leonard is so proud of your success," she said, a smugness creeping into her tone. "He's always telling me about your new ventures."
 Ezra swallowed down a wave of irritation. His father's pride, if it existed, was a tightly guarded secret, a fleeting flicker in his cold, calculating gaze. "That's... nice to hear," he said, his voice lacking any genuine enthusiasm.
 He walked towards the grand dining room, the mahogany table gleaming under the soft glow of the chandelier. His father sat at the head of the table, his face etched with his usual stoic expression.
 "Ezra," Mr. Birmingham said, his voice a gravelly rumble. "Take a seat."
 Ezra took his place, the distance between him and his father, both physical and emotional, a chasm he couldn’t bridge. The silence that followed, punctuated only by the clinking of silverware and the hushed whispers of conversation, felt like a heavy weight pressing down on him.
 He couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped, a puppet in a play he didn't want to be a part of. The opulent setting, the grand table laden with silver and crystal, felt like a mockery of the family he had lost. He longed for the warmth and laughter that had once filled this house, the memories of his mother, a beacon of love in his childhood.
 But he was alone, a stranger in his own home, trapped in a cycle of pretense and a life that felt more like an elaborate charade. He had his own life, his own successes, but this dinner, a ritual that he couldn’t escape, was a constant reminder of the life he had lost and the family he couldn’t reclaim.
 The air hung heavy with anticipation, the silence broken only by the soft clinking of silverware as Mr. Birmingham picked up his fork, ready to begin the ritualistic meal.
 Just as the first bite of food was about to pass his lips, a familiar, high-pitched sound pierced the stillness, shattering the fragile calm.
 “Good evening, everyone! I am so sorry for being late,” Valerie announced, her voice a shrill melody that grated on Ezra’s nerves. “I was caught in a terrible traffic jam!”
 She took her seat beside Ezra, her presence a tangible reminder of the disruption she brought to his carefully constructed world. Her smile, a forced, saccharine grin, didn't quite reach her eyes.
 Ezra glared at her, his jaw tightening. He had always found her presence annoying, her constant chatter, her attempts to insert herself into his life, a constant irritant that can't be easily avoided.