I collapsed on the floor, holding my belly, unable to hold back my tears. It was the peak of summer, and the small, unventilated kitchen soon made me short of breath.
I crawled to the door and opened it, hoping to catch some air from the air-conditioned living room. But John stormed in.
"What do you think you're doing? Can't you just wash the dishes? Why open the door?"
"You're comfortable, but what about everyone else? Do you think you're the only one who feels hot?"
He shut and locked the door. Grace yelled from outside, "Which woman doesn't have kids? None of them have issues, but she's always uncomfortable. It's because you spoil her!"
I sat there in a daze, my head buzzing. John and I met two years ago. I had just graduated from college and was harassed by some thugs on my way home. John stepped in to protect me.
We ran into each other often after that, and he told me he had just graduated too. He said he had given up a high-paying job to repay his village for supporting his education. Moved by his gratitude, I asked my father to help him secure an investment.