Then she turned to me, lips pressed tight, fumbling for something that sounded sincere. "Amara… Mom's got a temper. Sometimes I say things without thinking. Don't take it to heart, okay?"
She ground her teeth together, forcing the following words out like they were made of nails.
"Instead of getting in your way here, it's probably better if I go home for a while."
Her hands trembled as she pulled out a red envelope from her purse and shoved it into my hands.
"Amara, recovering from childbirth isn't easy. This is just a little something from me. When Paul's vacation ends, I'll come back."
I looked down at the envelope, then back up at her with a faint smile.
On the surface, I probably looked touched. But inside, my heart had already iced over.
'So you're in a hurry to get out of here? Perfect. Go. Run. The farther away you are, the easier it'll be for me to do what I need to do.'
Once the three of them finally left, one by one, like roaches scattering, Aunt Clara slipped back into the room, her arms wrapped around my baby like he was the most precious thing in the world.
And to me, he was.