Chapter 3

My brother, Zeno Noury, sat beside me. He’d driven all the way from our hometown just to be here and take care of me.

Seeing my family, tears welled up in my eyes. Zeno spoke to me carefully, “Abigail, there’s something you need to be prepared for. The doctor said that due to emotional and other factors, the baby... the baby is gone.”

He quickly reassured me, “But as long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters!”

Actually, my parents were there too, standing in the hallway. Zeno had decided to tell me this alone.

He’d thought of countless ways to comfort me, fearing I might break down. But unexpectedly, I remained strangely calm.

I didn’t cry or make a scene, just stared blankly at my belly. I stayed in the hospital for three days.

During that time, Yohan and his family never once showed their faces. My parents couldn’t bear it and wanted to confront them.

I stopped them, hoping they’d let me handle this matter myself. That evening, I packed my things to go home.

On the way, I got a call from Yohan. “Have you calmed down? When are you coming home?”

They thought I was angry, which was why I’d been staying at my parents’ place. I forced a bitter smile.

“I’m in the car. I’ll be home tonight.”

Yohan just said, “Oh, okay.”

He then hung up the call, completely indifferent.

When I got home, my mother-in-law opened the door. She looked me up and down, unable to hold back her complaints.

“Had enough fun out there? I’ve never seen anyone like you, who goes back to parents’ house after a fight.”

She added, “I’ve been doing all the housework these past few days. Are you satisfied now?”

I glanced around the house and was stunned by the sight before me. The living room was filthy beyond belief, littered with sunflower seed shells and fruit peels everywhere.

The dining table was a mess, needless to say and the coffee table was splattered with grease and soup stains. Fruit flies were buzzing around it.

I asked, “This is what you call cleaning?”

I couldn’t comprehend how they could live in such conditions. If I were in this environment, every second would feel like torture.

My mother-in-law snapped back impatiently, “What else could I do? It is already the best I can do.”

Yohan chimed in from the side, “She’s so old, Abigail. How do you expect her to handle this house? The rest is up to you. Is two hours enough?”

Surveying the utter chaos, I could only sneer inwardly, then replied firmly, “If you can’t handle it, do it yourselves. If you can’t manage, pay for a cleaner. I’m not your servant.”

With that, I grabbed my bag and went straight inside.

My mother-in-law yelled, “Is that how a daughter-in-law should speak? Looks like your trip back to your hometown has made you forget your place!”

Yohan blocked the bedroom door, preventing me from locking it.

He warned me, “Do you even know how much it costs to hire a cleaner? How much money do we have for you to throw around like this?”

I really admire them. They didn’t lift a finger when I was not around.

Fine, if they won’t work, at least stop eating nonstop. They made the house messy and dirty, just waiting for me to come back and clean it all up alone?

“Aren’t your parents quite generous?”

“They'd rather talk business at the New Year's Eve dinner table than spend $300 on a cleaning service?”

My mother-in-law explained, “What’s wrong with spending a little money for the whole family to eat together once a year? Isn’t that how it should be? Are we supposed to split the cost between three families?”

I replied, “Yeah, that’s how it should be.”

Instead of getting angry, I laughed and challenged her. “Then why don’t you pay the monthly mortgage, car loan and utilities?”

“All of these, I paid for them all! That’s what you should pay for, why should I? The house and car aren’t mine and the utilities aren’t that much.”