"As long as you listen to me, I’ll find you a good husband," she promised.
Naively, I thought she had finally freed herself from my aunt’s control.
I didn’t know then that I was nothing more than bait.
That night, a man entered my room.
That man later became Nate.
—
A sudden commotion jolted me back to the present.
"Oh, baby—"
My daughter was at my aunt’s feet, coughing violently, her tiny face flushed red.
"It’s just a little mustard. Girls can’t be this weak. She’s too delicate!" my aunt scoffed.
I rushed forward, scooping my daughter into my arms. She sobbed, struggling to breathe. I frantically searched for water—there was nothing but wine on the table.
"Aunt! How can a one-year-old eat mustard? She’s just a baby! Do you have any conscience at all?"
My mother’s hand struck my face before I could react.
"Pa—!"
The stinging slap rang through the room.
Her voice was sharp, unforgiving. "You are getting out of control! How dare you speak like that?"
Tears welled in my eyes as I held my daughter close.
"She’s only one! What if she choked?" My voice trembled with rage. "How can you be so heartless?"
"That’s enough! Your aunt rarely visits the old house, and look at the mess you’ve made!"