He looked concerned as soon as he saw me. "Yvonne, your face hasn't healed yet? My mom made this special soup for you. It's great for recovery. She specifically asked me to bring it to you."
He added, "It's strange, though. Ever since my mom got off the train, she's been injured and constantly cursing at home. But she won't say why when we ask her."
My father smiled but didn't respond, instead asking me to take the soup to the kitchen. As I stepped out, someone grabbed my hair. "You little brat! How dare you show up here! I'll beat you to death this time!"
I cried out, not even able to see who was attacking me. Hearing my scream, everyone in the living room rushed over.
"Mom? Mom, what are you doing?"
