Saying this, I pulled my Jayden to go downstairs to see Mia's room. I couldn't believe it. Mom paid for it, so how did it turn into mistreatment?
As I pulled my brother towards the door, about to open it, Melinda, who had been silent, finally spoke.
"There's no need to go. I was the one who changed Mia's room. It has nothing to do with Joanna. Jayden, stop making a scene. Joanna needs to rest!"
Melinda admitted it. She secretly switched Mia's room. No wonder I felt someone watching when I arrived—it must have been Mia.
I walked angrily towards Melinda. "Mom, how could you do that? How could you downgrade Mia's room? How can she rest well with several people crammed into one room?"
Jayden grabbed my arm and pointed at my nose, yelling.
"Joanna, stop pretending. You know exactly how rich Melinda has. You insisted on the presidential suite, which forced Mia into a worse room. I paid for your college education for nothing. The education went to waste. When did you become so heartless?"
His accusations left me baffled. I shook off his grip and shouted back, "What do you mean I forced her? I was the one who called ambulance when she was in labor. If I had known Mom would downgrade her room, I wouldn't have agreed!"
Jayden's tone suddenly softened, and he looked at me with a strange smile.
"You wouldn't have agreed? Then return the room now and get two equal ones! Go on, my dear sister, return it!"
I was speechless. Jayden knew me well—I always got what I wanted, and I hadn't enjoyed the presidential suite enough yet. There was no way I would give it up!
I pretended to be righteous and questioned him loudly, "Do you think the postpartum center belongs to you? You think you can change rooms just like that? If you're so capable, why don't you book a room for your wife yourself? Mom made the booking, and now you're not satisfied. Everyone else can stay there, so why can't Mia? Is she more special than others?"
Seeing us about to come to blows, Melinda hurriedly stepped between us, afraid we'd start fighting.
"If you want to blame someone, blame me. It's my fault. I don't have enough money to meet all your needs. Stop arguing, please. You're both my children."
Melinda lowered her head in guilt. I, with tears in my eyes, hugged her and shouted at Jayden, "What more do you want from Mom? Thousand dollars for a postpartum center, and you want to break her heart?"