I had started cooking at five in the morning, when the house was still dark and silent, to prepare the perfect Christmas dinner for my in-laws.
The turkey had been marinating since the night before, the side dishes were simmering slowly, and I was seven months pregnant, enduring nausea, exhaustion, and a persistent pain.
Even so, Sylvia insisted on supervising every detail, correcting my posture, criticizing my seasoning, and reminding me, with a sharp smile, that I was only there because of David.
Có thể là hình ảnh về em bé
