Paige suckled, then lost the latch and began to fuss. Wendy tried to adjust her with clumsy careful hands. “Mom, I had surgery yesterday.”
“Two days ago,” Suzanne corrected.
“I can barely move.”
Suzanne sighed, impatient. “You’re moving fine. I saw you walking around last night.”
Walking around. As if Wendy had been doing laps for pleasure rather than dragging herself to the bathroom because biology had not paused for surgery.
“Please,” Wendy said, hating how quickly tears threatened. “Give me one day. One day so I can move properly.”
“No. Cheryl is coming.”
There it was. Not a discussion. A decree. Same as always.
Wendy looked down at Paige because looking at her mother made the room feel dangerous. “You told me I could stay here for a week.”
Suzanne’s voice sharpened. “Don’t talk to me like I owe you anything.”
The air changed then. Wendy felt it before she understood it. Something old and rotten coming to the surface. The version of her mother who did not merely favor Cheryl but actively resented Wendy for having needs.
“I’m not saying you owe me,” Wendy whispered. “I’m saying I just had a baby. Please.”