"Mom, what are you even saying?" Paul cut in quickly, his voice tense. "Amara already agreed not to register the baby under her name. There's no need to talk about divorce. Just apologize, okay?"
"Why the hell should I apologize?" Eleanor shot back, her voice rising again. "She's just some orphan from the mountains—"
The sharp crack of palm on skin silenced her mid-sentence.
My mother-in-law spun around, stunned. Her hand flew to her cheek, eyes wide with disbelief.
"You hit me?" she gasped at Paul. "After everything I've done for this family? If I hadn't held her back all this time, you think—"
"Ahhh!" Eleanor shrieked again, turning to glare at Janice, who had just pinched her hard on the arm.
"You too?" she barked. "What, are both of you losing your minds? Is this some kind of rebellion now?"
Janice kept her fingers digging into her mother's arm, staring her down like a teacher scolding a child.
"Mom, enough. You're blowing everything out of proportion again. Didn't we agree we were going to apologize to Amara? Or did you forget that already?"
It was like watching someone flip a switch.
My mother-in-law blinked rapidly, looking between Paul and Janice, clearly rattled.
Then she turned to me, lips pressed tight, fumbling for something that sounded sincere. "Amara… Mom's got a temper. Sometimes I say things without thinking. Don't take it to heart, okay?"
She ground her teeth together, forcing the following words out like they were made of nails.
"Instead of getting in your way here, it's probably better if I go home for a while."
Her hands trembled as she pulled out a red envelope from her purse and shoved it into my hands.
"Amara, recovering from childbirth isn't easy. This is just a little something from me. When Paul's vacation ends, I'll come back."
I looked down at the envelope, then back up at her with a faint smile.
On the surface, I probably looked touched. But inside, my heart had already iced over.
'So you're in a hurry to get out of here? Perfect. Go. Run. The farther away you are, the easier it'll be for me to do what I need to do.'
Once the three of them finally left, one by one, like roaches scattering, Aunt Clara slipped back into the room, her arms wrapped around my baby like he was the most precious thing in the world.
And to me, he was.