Last night, I was at a family dinner, invited over by a friend’s parents. The table was full—laughter, clinking cutlery, rich curries, and soft rotis. As I reached for the paneer,I don't know what came into my mind and I farted —a very loud fart.

Silence.

Someone dropped a spoon. The aunt beside me blinked in slow motion.

The smell hit a second later—a wave of pure destruction. Thick, unforgiving, like boiled eggs left in a tandoor.

Uncle stared blankly into the void, reconsidering the choices that brought him here.

The aunt blinked once more, slower this time, perhaps questioning the nature of karma. The kid quietly asked his mother, “Will I fart like that when I grow up?”

My friend looked at me with hollow eyes, like he’d lost faith in the world, betrayed by his own best friend.

Even the dog, who had been under the table, quietly walked out—defeated.

AITAH?