“No thanks,” I said automatically.
“What, are you on a diet?” a woman joked.
My stomach clenched with the old instinct to explain, to justify, to soften my no.
Instead I said, “I have life-threatening food allergies.”
The room went quiet for a beat.
“Oh,” the woman said, face flushing. “I’m sorry.”
“No worries,” I said, and walked away.
Later, another coworker, Sam, caught up with me. “Hey,” he said, voice gentle. “I didn’t know. Do you… need anything at work to be safer?”
The question hit me harder than it should have.
I swallowed. “Honestly? Just people not pushing food at me.”
Sam nodded. “Done.”
I went home that day and realized something: my family wasn’t the only group that needed to learn. The world was full of people who treated food like a harmless default. For me, it was never default. It was a risk assessment every day.
But at least now, I wasn’t doing it alone.
Part 6
My parents’ first “safe dinner” at their house felt like stepping into a museum exhibit titled We Are Trying.
Mom had put up a printed sign by the sink: Wash hands. No outside food. Check labels. She’d rearranged the kitchen like she’d watched one too many cross-contamination videos.