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since I married him, my husband looked afraid.
I knew my mother-in-law hated me, but I never thought she would hide shrimp in my food while I was pregnant. When my throat closed and I grabbed my belly, Daniel snapped, “Stop em:bar:rassing my mother.”
The first bite tasted rich, buttery, almost innocent—until my throat started tightening. Across the table, my mother-in-law watched me struggle to breathe with the calm smile of someone waiting for a trap to spring shut.
“Claire?” my sister-in-law asked quietly, lowering her fork. “Are you alright?”
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