The tone he used—soft and coaxing, as though speaking to a child—stung more than it should have. I kept my gaze fixed on the small bowl of food in front of me, the sadness in my chest growing heavier with each passing second.
There was a time when I didn’t mind the way Scott spoke to me. Back then, I found his care and attention comforting, even sweet. But now? Now it grated on me.
I didn’t want to be treated like a child anymore.
Ever since Jessica moved into this house, everything seemed to revolve around her, including the meals. The table was always filled with her favorite spicy foods that overwhelmed my palate.
I had grown up eating light, mild foods, and my stomach couldn’t handle anything too intense. Although we all sat at the same table from that day on, my meals were separate from theirs.
The sight of my small, plain bowl next to their vibrant, aromatic dishes only deepened the divide I felt between me and the rest of the household. It was as if the table itself mirrored my place in their world—apart, isolated, an afterthought.
Jessica raised an eyebrow, smiling playfully. "Auntie, you really don’t have to go all out for me. Nadia’s not used to this kind of food." She turned to Scott’s mom, Martha, and added, "Let’s keep it simple for Nadia. I like mild dishes too, so it’s no trouble."
Martha shot me a glance before looking back at Jessica. "You’re too kind, Jessica. What does a fool like her know, anyway?"
Then, with a sigh, Martha’s tone softened further. "I’ve always liked you, my dear. Seeing you with Scott makes me so happy." She let out a small laugh, dripping with thinly veiled affection. "I still don’t know what his grandfather was thinking, making Scott marry her…"
Scott slammed his utensils on the table with a loud clang, startling everyone.
"Mom," he addressed her sternly, his voice cutting through the room. "I’ve told you—stop calling her a fool. She’s my wife."
He then turned his attention to me, his gaze gentler. "And stop making vague comments. Nadia and I are married. That’s the end of it."
I bit down on my lip, fighting back tears. Without a word, I pushed back my chair and moved to the sofa, not wanting to stay at the table any longer. Martha’s dislike for me wasn’t new. I’d always known she didn’t approve of me.