Seeing me, he smirked sarcastically. "Oh, so you're done pretending? Nobody's home, and yet you managed to cook a whole meal. I told you, you're just spoiled. You're a mother now. Bear with it and stop relying on others."
Seeing his smug face, I didn't get angry. I just sat at the dining table and focused on eating.
When Nigel saw I wasn't reacting, he shut up, served himself a plate, and started eating voraciously.
Suddenly, he picked up a piece of chicken and examined it closely. "This chicken tastes weird. Is it spoiled?"
I glanced at him and pushed the plate of chicken towards him. "It's chicken with pepper I bought specially. My incision hasn't healed, so I can't eat spicy food. You can have it all."
Reassured by my explanation, Nigel ate the chicken enthusiastically. Soon, he devoured half of it.
Satisfied, he pushed his plate away and went to his room. I tidied up briefly and went to soothe the baby.
In the middle of the night, while I was feeding the baby, I heard Nigel's continuous groans of pain coming from the master bedroom.
Following the sound, I found Nigel writhing on the floor, his forehead covered in large beads of sweat.
I returned to my room and called for an ambulance.