Chapter 1 Quiet Dinner

It was an unusually quiet breakfast. My mother sipped her soup and tried to calm me down. "She didn't mean it. Don't strain your relationship over this. The marriage will proceed."

I said nothing and put a piece of bread on her plate. My mother ran a breakfast place in our hometown. She would wake up every day before dawn to make the doughs, the pastries, and the juices.

Lorelei happily took her money to pay off her PhD program, but she never asked how my mother made her money. All the bills and coins were stuffed in the drawer, covered in dirt and the stench of oil.

The calluses and blisters on my mother's hands were proof that this was hard earned money. Every time I came home, I told her to catch a break. She would wipe her face off with a towel and put up a wrinkly smile. "I will, once I make enough for your house's downpayment."

Earlier this year, she kept complaining that her stomach wouldn't stop hurting. I talked to Lorelei and asked if she could give my mother a slot with her family privilege and arrange an endoscopy for her.

She refused. "I'm a supervising doctor. I have to lead by example!"

I thought she had a point, so I made an appointment a week earlier, right before our wedding. I made it a point to tell her multiple times. She would tell me she got it, but she never did remember it.

It was just something she said to shoo me away.

I took my mother home and got another appointment at another top hospital. Time stretched on until seven at night. She didn't call or text or even ask if my mother had done her endoscopy and if we wanted to go out.

An hour passed. The food I made had gone cold, yet she hadn't returned. I called her, but it only rang for a moment before she hung up.

I texted, "When are you coming back?"

She gave me no reply. I picked up my fork and was about to eat, but my mother held my hand down. "I don't think that's nice. She probably has a procedure going on."

The light shone on my mother. She smiled, and wrinkles folded her face. Her hair was already graying, and it told me she was already getting old. I put my fork down, trying not to cry.

My phone buzzed. Seeing the notification, I tapped on it, only to see Lorelei and the father-son pair holding up peace signs to the camera. Behind them was a luxurious room, and beside her were our colleagues.

There was a feast on the dining table too.

One of the nurses who knew me tagged me. "Lorelei's treating her childhood friend to dinner. Where are you?"

I stared at the screen until it started to dim, then typed, "Maybe she thinks I don't deserve it."

I put my phone down and told my mother to eat. "She's treating her colleagues to dinner. Let's not wait for her."

My mother's hand froze, but she put up a smile and comforted me. "Of course. She has to manage her network. We can't help her, but we can support her."

I ate quietly, but every bite felt like it was eating into glass, and it hurt my mouth. A few bites later, Lorelei called. She said icily, "Delete that."