She said, "Let her die, one life for another."
From that moment on, the mother-daughter bond between us was irreparably severed.
Feeling disheartened, I avoided her gaze while Amanda enthusiastically gestured for me to sit.
As I settled down, she proudly patted her six-month baby bump.
"Look how round my belly is now, Claire. You're going to have a nephew soon."
"A nephew? Isn't it against hospital rules to reveal the gender?"
I stared at her belly, remaining silent.
In fact, until the moment of my death, I never knew whether the child was a boy or a girl.
Because, in the end, they never made it.
Amanda prattled on, oblivious to my puzzled expression.
"Mom consulted the village fortune teller. It's definitely going to be a chubby little boy.
"If it weren't for giving birth to Lizzy, would my body have suffered so much all these years?"
As soon as I heard that name, my hand trembled uncontrollably for a moment before returning to normal.
Amanda continued, "The fortune teller was right. She's a harbinger of misfortune, sent to plague me..."
In the past, I would have harshly interrupted Amanda, reprimanding her for treating her own daughter so callously.