Sister sipped her wine and smirked. Dad added, “Some daughters just don’t know their place.”
Sister said, “No one needs an unwanted child in this family, right?”
When I tried to protect my belly, my mother kicked me again, harder. “Stay down.”
My sister threw her wine glass at me.
“You were ruining everything.”
My father-in-law, who was there, stepped on my hand. “Learn some respect.”
I was crying on the floor while all my guests stood frozen in shock. Then a low voice came from behind the crowd.
Everyone turned around, and their faces turned pale when they saw. The baby shower had been going beautifully until the doorbell rang at exactly 3:00 in the afternoon. I was eight and a half months pregnant, glowing with happiness as friends and family surrounded me with gifts and laughter.
My husband, Daniel, stood beside me, his hand protectively resting on my shoulder while we opened presents. The living room of our new home sparkled with pink and white decorations, balloons clustered in every corner, and a stunning three-tier cake sat on the dining table. Everything changed the moment my mother walked through that door.
She didn’t knock. She never did when it came to asserting her presence in my life. Behind her came my sister, Vanessa, dressed in an expensive designer dress that probably cost more than my entire baby registry.
Following them was my father, his expression already set in that familiar look of disapproval he’d worn whenever he looked at me for the past thirty years. Daniel’s father, William, brought up the rear, and I felt my stomach drop at his unexpected appearance. My mother’s eyes swept across the room, taking in the decorations, the guests, the pile of gifts stacked near my chair.
Her mouth twisted into something ugly. “You think you can give birth before your sister? Never.
The only real grandchild is hers.”
The room fell silent. Conversations died mid-sentence. Someone’s fork clattered against a plate.
My best friend, Jessica, who’d been standing by the refreshment table, froze with a cup halfway to her lips. I struggled to stand from the comfortable armchair where I’d been sitting, my pregnant belly making the movement awkward and slow. Daniel’s hand tightened on my shoulder, but before either of us could speak, my mother moved with shocking speed.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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