"Sister-in-law, don't be so dramatic." Charity crossed her arms, her face full of disdain. "You ballooned into that mess during your pregnancy, and Brendan never said a word about it. So what if he let us watch your delivery video?"
"Stop acting like Brendan owes you something. Who are you playing victim for?"
I froze.
"Us?"
"What do you mean, us? Brendan—explain yourself. Who else did you send that video to?"
A terrible suspicion was already forming.
And Charity, seeing my expression, couldn't hold back her laughter.
She waved her phone at me. On the screen was a group chat—flooded with screenshots taken from my delivery video, turned into mocking memes.
Mixed in were crude jokes. Vulgar comments. People laughing at my expense.
"One second her face is all twisted up, the next her eyes are rolling back—and she's so red and sweaty. Honestly, if I didn't know better, I'd never guess this was childbirth, haha."
"Leave it to Brendan to kick off the new year with entertainment like this. Think the missus will run away from home when she finds out?"
"Who cares..."
I closed my eyes, unable to stomach another word. The rage made my wound throb.
"Brendan. Are you still not going to explain?"