I rushed forward, scooping my daughter into my arms. She sobbed, struggling to breathe. I frantically searched for water—there was nothing but wine on the table.
"Aunt! How can a one-year-old eat mustard? She’s just a baby! Do you have any conscience at all?"
My mother’s hand struck my face before I could react.
"Pa—!"
The stinging slap rang through the room.
Her voice was sharp, unforgiving. "You are getting out of control! How dare you speak like that?"
Tears welled in my eyes as I held my daughter close.
"She’s only one! What if she choked?" My voice trembled with rage. "How can you be so heartless?"
"That’s enough! Your aunt rarely visits the old house, and look at the mess you’ve made!"
"How many times have I told you to be humble and respect your elders? Instead, you always bring shame upon this family!"
I stamped my foot in frustration.
"Mom! Auntie is your sister, not mine! If you want to take care of her, that’s your business, but stop dragging me into it! Grandpa asked you to look after her—what does that have to do with me? Haven’t they done enough to hurt me already?!"
My daughter’s cries slowly quieted in my arms, but I was too anxious to care about anything else. I turned toward the kitchen, desperate to rinse her mouth.
But before I could move, my mother’s fury erupted. She raised her hand and slapped me hard, again and again.
"Unfilial daughter! I’ll beat you to death!"
"How dare you defy me!"
Julia stepped forward, pretending to hold my mother back.
"Auntie, let it go. My sister has always been like this. Don’t waste your energy getting upset."
At the sound of Julia’s soft persuasion, my mother’s expression shifted in an instant.
"Such a good child," she cooed, her anger melting away. "You are so filial. Don’t be upset, it’s not worth it."
Then she turned back to me with a glare sharper than a knife.
"You are nothing compared to your sister. Some people are just different. Why did I even give birth to such a disgraceful daughter like you?"
Julia led my mother back to the dining table, as if nothing had happened.
I felt my daughter stirring weakly in my arms. Something was wrong.
Then, I saw it.
Blood.
A small stain bloomed on my clothes. My breath caught in my throat.
"Blood! Nate! Our daughter is coughing up blood!"
She furrowed her tiny brows, her eyes fluttering shut, her little fingers clinging to my shirt with the last bit of her strength.