My father-in-law slapped me at my baby shower and called me “defective.” He had no idea I was 11 weeks pregnant. The room fell silent. Phones started recording. Hours later, I was in the ER. By morning, my husband had to choose—his father or his child.
everyone! Let’s play a game—guess the baby food flavor! It’s going to be terrible, I promise!”
Laughter rippled through the room. A few cousins raised their phones, ready to record. I took a sip of my drink, the citrus flavor sweet on my tongue. I closed my eyes briefly, wishing—just for today—that things could stay peaceful.
