Chapter 2

02

I made a special trip to the farmers' market and bought a good stewing hen, then spent the whole afternoon simmering it slowly in a clay pot. After chemo, my father-in-law's mouth turned bitter and he couldn't stomach anything; only this chicken soup over rice would go down, and only a few bites at that.

At seven that evening, Roger came home.

The moment he stepped through the door, he caught the smell of the soup and frowned. "That smell again? The whole place reeks of grease."

I came out of the kitchen in my apron and took his briefcase with a smile. "It's the only thing Dad can eat lately. Have you had dinner? I saved some for—"

"I've eaten." He cut me off, impatient, changed his shoes, and headed straight for the study. "That reminds me, where are Dad's medical bills? Bring them here, I want to look."

I wiped my hands and took a thick stack of receipts from the drawer and handed them to him.

Roger settled into the leather executive chair and flipped through them one by one, his face darkening with every page.

"How is it over thirty thousand again this month? Imogen, do you think my money grows on trees?" He slapped the bills down on the desk and glared at me.

My stomach knotted. "The doctor recommended switching to a new targeted drug. His body built up resistance to the old one. On top of that, Dad's been very weak lately, so he had a few days of albumin—"

"Albumin, albumin. I think all that albumin's gone to your head!" Roger shot to his feet and jabbed a finger at my face. "Can't you learn to cut back? Whatever the hospital tells you to buy, you just buy it? Are you a complete idiot?"

"Roger! That's your father!" I couldn't help raising my voice. "In thirteen years I haven't bought a single piece of clothing over five hundred dollars, never once had my hair or face done, and every cent went where it mattered. And now you think it's too expensive? Back when you had nothing, who used her dowry money to pay for your father's treatment?"

"Enough, enough, stop bringing up that pitiful little dowry. That was paid back ages ago." Roger waved his hand in disgust. "I give you twenty thousand a month for the household now. That's still not enough? I think you're just skimming it for yourself."

"You—" I was shaking with rage.

"Rosie, is that Roger back?"

A sugary voice floated in from outside, and my sister-in-law Rose pushed the door open and walked in. She wore a brand-new coat, carried a freshly bought LV bag, and had done her makeup to perfection.

"Ooh, something feels off in here." Rose's eyes darted around, and she went straight to Roger's side. "Roger, is Rosie hitting you up for money again? I keep telling you, hospital doctors are the worst con artists. Half those drugs aren't even necessary."

Roger, as if he'd found an ally, gave a cold snort. "You hear that? Even Rose gets it. You're the only one playing the saint all day long."

I looked at the two of them, brother and sister, and the chill inside me ran colder than the winter tap water.

For the past few years Rose had lived very comfortably off Roger. He'd bought her a house back home and arranged a job for her husband.

And me? I got interrogated like a criminal just for buying my father-in-law an imported drug.

"Oh, right, Roger," Rose said, as if she'd just remembered. She pulled a gold-foil invitation from her bag. "Justin's tenth birthday party is next week, at the Hilton. You have to come. Oh, and Rosie, you'd better sit this one out, hadn't you—you've got to look after Dad at the hospital, and honestly, a place like that, dressed the way you are, it wouldn't really fit."

Roger nodded, drew a card from his wallet, and handed it to Rose. "Take it, put it on this. Do it up nice for the kid."

I glanced at the card. It was his supplementary card. What I was holding was a few crumpled bills, the change from buying the hen.

"Roger, the hospital deposit for Dad won't cover tomorrow." I bit down and said it anyway.

Roger's hand paused. Impatient, he pulled out his phone and transferred five thousand. "That's all there is. Treat him or don't, your call."

Then he and Rose walked out, chatting and laughing, saying they were off to check out the venue.

In the empty apartment, only I remained, and the pot of chicken soup still steaming on the stove.