“Alright, we’re heading out,” Daniel said, not looking at Claire or the tiny bundle in her arms. He checked his luxury watch—another silent gift from Claire. “My mother managed to secure a VIP reservation at Haidilao for seven o’clock. We’re celebrating the birth of the heir.”
Claire blinked through the exhausted haze, her dry throat clicking. “You’re… you’re leaving? Daniel, the nurses haven’t even gone over the discharge instructions yet. I can barely stand up.”
Elaine, Claire’s mother-in-law, stepped out from the hallway, flanked by Daniel’s younger sister, Melissa. Elaine was draped in a heavy fur stole, adjusting her signature pearl bracelet with an air of profound impatience. She looked at Claire not as a new mother, but as a defective piece of medical equipment that was currently ruining her evening plans.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Claire, don’t be so dramatic,” Elaine smirked, her voice dripping with elitist disdain. “Women have babies every single day in rice paddies and go right back to work. You’re in a private suite. You have nurses. You’ll survive.”
Melissa chimed in, scrolling through her phone, not even bothering to look up. “Seriously. Don’t ruin Daniel’s night. He’s been under so much stress waiting for you to finish.”
Claire stared at her husband, desperately waiting for him to defend her, to tell his mother and sister to leave so he could sit by his wife’s side.
Daniel looked at his mother, smiled apologetically for Claire’s “weakness,” and then turned to his wife. His eyes were completely devoid of empathy, warmth, or humanity.
“Just handle the paperwork,” Daniel said casually, brushing a piece of invisible lint from his lapel. “Take the bus home. I’m taking my family to hotpot.”
Claire’s breath hitched violently in her chest. Take the bus home. She had a fresh, seven-inch surgical incision across her abdomen. She was holding a six-hour-old infant. And her husband was telling her to take public transit in the freezing November rain so he wouldn’t miss a dinner reservation.
