Chapter 2

My hand froze on the fridge door, not moving.

I pulled open the freezer. All that was left were a few pale, frosted ears of corn.

All the labels my mom had put on were gone.

Not a single one of the thirty-plus containers of postpartum meals was left.

The cold air from the fridge washed over my face. Yet I broke out in a cold sweat.

I checked the freezer again, not a single thing.

I checked the fridge again, still empty.

My mom had written the dates on strips of blue tape, lining them up neatly across the lids of each container.

Now, not even a scrap of tape remained.

I leaned against the stove, barely keeping myself from sinking to the floor.

In the living room, Olivia was watching short videos on her phone.

The video was full of loud laughter. She couldn't help but laugh along.

I stood in the kitchen doorway, watching her. "Olivia, what happened to all the postpartum meals in the fridge?"

Olivia's fingers froze on her phone. She looked up at me, not a hint of panic on her face. "Why are you out of bed?"

Claire pressed, her voice trembling with disbelief, "Where are the postpartum meals?"

Olivia put her phone down and stood up, taking her time, completely unbothered. "I gave them away."

I thought I must have misheard her. "Who did you give them to?" I asked.

"Audrey," she replied, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

I stared at her. "You gave the postpartum meals my mom made for me to Audrey?"

Olivia frowned. "What kind of attitude is that?

"We're all family. Why are you being so petty?

"Audrey's pregnant with twins. She needs it way more than you."

My palms went numb. "She's pregnant, sure, but doesn't she have her own family and husband to cook for her?"

Olivia's face darkened. "Why are you being so rude? Audrey's carrying twins. And you?"

She glanced toward the bedroom. "You've already had the baby. What's the point of all that extra nourishment now?"

I watched her mouth as she spoke.

Every word hit me, clear as day. And her words were ice cold.

I said calmly, "I had a C-section seven days ago. I'm still nursing my baby. The doctor said I'm really low on iron."

Olivia waved her hand impatiently. "Doctors love to scare people.

"Back in our day, we were up and working the fields the very next day after giving birth.

"Nowadays, you treat having a baby like it's some kind of heroic achievement."

A wave of suffocating frustration washed over me.

But Olivia wasn't finished. She had to add, "You're young. Just have some oatmeal. That's enough for you. Stop acting so spoiled."

As soon as she said that, the living room went dead silent.

I didn't cry. I didn't make a scene.

I suddenly felt like the walls of this house were icy cold. So cold that all the excuses I'd made for her before meant nothing now.

It was not that she didn't know how to take care of someone.

To her, I simply wasn't worth the effort.

It was not like she didn't know who made those soups.

She knew exactly who made those soups, and that made her even bolder about taking them.

She was sure I'd put up with it. She was sure I wouldn't dare make a scene.

She was convinced that with Arthur gone, I was a new mom, barely able to stand without holding onto the wall, totally at her mercy, with no way to escape her grasp.

Seeing me stay silent, Olivia got even more worked up. "Stop sulking. I made you oatmeal. What more do you want?

"Your mom cooked all that food for everyone, didn't she? It's for the whole family.

"Audrey's the most precious right now. She's carrying twins, you know."

I asked her, "Did you ever tell me about this?"

She froze for a second. "What?"

"Did you even ask me before you took them?" I pressed.

Olivia let out a mocking laugh. "I'm your mother-in-law. You really think I need your permission to take some food from the fridge?

"Anyway, those postpartum meals were just taking up space in there.

"I did you a favor by getting rid of them, and you're still not satisfied?"

I stared at her, my fingers slowly curling into fists. "My mom spent a whole week making those meals.

"She got up at four in the morning to get fish for the soup.

"She simmered the pork trotters all the way until midnight.

"She never even tasted a drop herself.

"You gave them all away just because they were taking up space?"

Olivia's composure cracked, her face darkening as she lost all sense of dignity.

She raised her voice, sharp and defensive. "Don't you dare use your mom to pressure me.

"You married into the Cherry family, so you're one of us now.

"Anything in this house that's Cherry family property, I can give it to whoever I please."

I let out a bitter laugh. The pain from my incision flared up with every chuckle.

"Cherry family property?" I gripped the edge of the dining table and slowly lowered myself into a chair.

On the table sat a bowl of oatmeal, completely cold.

There were barely any grains, just a few sinking to the bottom of the bowl.

This was what she called "taking care of me." This was her idea of a postpartum meal for a new mom.

I picked up my phone.

Olivia's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

I kept my eyes off her. I pulled up Arthur's contact in my phone.

She rushed over, trying to grab my hand. "Why are you calling Arthur?

"He's busy out there. Don't bother him with something so trivial."

I pulled my phone away from her. "This isn't something trivial."

For the first time, panic flickered across her face.

"Claire, don't make such a fuss," she snapped. "I just took a few containers of soup. Is it really worth all this drama?"

I looked up at her. "It wasn't just a couple of boxes. It was thirty-seven boxes."

Olivia's lips parted, but no words came out.