“Oh, she’s back,” his parents said with disinterest before turning their full attention to Ian. They surrounded him, bombarding him with questions about his well-being.
My sister-in-law, glued to her phone, didn’t so much as glance in my direction.
It was as if I didn’t exist.
The ache in my abdomen grew sharper, and hunger gnawed at me, the acid in my stomach churning. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, I broke the silence.
“Ian, is there a night market nearby? I need something warm to eat.”
My mother-in-law immediately turned her head, her voice hoarse and accusatory. “This is the countryside, not the city. Where would there be a night market? Are you asking just to mock us? What do you mean by that?”
My sister-in-law finally put down her phone and chimed in, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Sister-in-law, people here don’t eat midnight snacks. You’re an older mother now, aren’t you? Eating late can easily cause high blood sugar. If you don’t even know that, how can you raise a child?”