“I made chicken soup to help her recover.” My mother’s voice trembled with worry.
“Too greasy. Chloe will feel nauseous.” Daniel took the thermos, turned around, and poured it straight down the sink.
I heard my mother choke up outside.
“Daniel, is Emily… is she being mistreated?”
My phone rang. It was my mother. I forced my voice to sound calm as I answered:
“Mom, I’m fine. Please go home.”
“Sweetheart, why is your voice so hoarse?”
“It’s nothing, just a little tired.”
Through the door, I watched Daniel’s cold back.
“Mom, don’t worry.”
After I hung up, I heard my mother’s quiet sobbing fade as her footsteps retreated.
That evening at dinner, Chloe deliberately asked Daniel to peel shrimp for her.
“Daniel, I don’t have the strength in my hands.” She feigned weakness.
Without hesitation, Daniel put down his chopsticks and carefully peeled the shrimp using the sterling silver cutlery I had scrimped to buy him for our wedding. He had once said it was for special occasions only.
Now, the special occasion had arrived—but not for me.
“Emily, what are you staring at? Go wash the dishes.” Daniel didn’t even lift his head.