“Your mother is gone. Tears won’t bring her back—so wipe your face, make dinner, and don’t look like a grieving child when my guests arrive.” That was what my husband said.

Mark immediately led Jessica and some of his closest friends to the most comfortable spot, the main sofa. He called out my name loudly and ordered me to bring a plate of food for Jessica. He said Jessica was a special guest and should be well taken care of. I swallowed, holding back the bitterness rising in my chest. I brought a plate and filled it with the food I had prepared earlier through tears. The pot roast, the garlic shrimp, and a piece of the loaded baked potato casserole were carefully arranged on the plate. I brought it to Jessica and offered it to her respectfully. Jessica accepted it without a single word of thanks.