Chapter 2

Seeing me finish the soup, Eleanor’s face finally brightened into a warm smile. She scurried back to her room and returned with a small velvet box.

Curious, I opened it. Inside was a delicate golden safety pin. The top was engraved with intricate patterns, and from the bottom, wrapped in red silk thread, hung tiny charms shaped like miniature wooden swords.

"Daisy, I picked this out specially for you," Eleanor said eagerly. "It's a protective charm pin. A lot of expectant mothers wear these online to ward off bad energy and keep the baby safe. The receipt is right under the velvet cushion, so if you don't like the style, you can always exchange it."

I lifted the cushion and glanced at the receipt. It was real gold, over three grams. I was stunned. Usually, Eleanor only bought cheap, dollar-store trinkets. Since when had she become so generous?

After a round of polite protests, I finally accepted it and placed it in my drawer, chalking it up as her way of apologizing for the scare last night.

After lunch, I felt drowsy. Eleanor eagerly took over the "prenatal bonding" duties, and given the expensive gold pin, I decided to let her have her way.

As her rhythmic voice read a children's book, I drifted into a semi-conscious state—awake enough to perceive my surroundings, but too heavy to open my eyes. During this time, I felt a soft hand gently stroking my belly.

The movement was incredibly light. What struck me was that she wasn't rubbing in circles, which doctors warn can cause the umbilical cord to wrap around the baby's neck. She was stroking in a specific, protective pattern.

"Look how perfect our baby is," she murmured, her voice dripping with a bizarre, maternal obsession. "Leo. My little Leo. You'll be out to see us soon. Just stay good inside your sister-in-law's belly, okay?"

I snapped awake.

The words echoed in my mind. The voice was definitely Eleanor's. It was so bizarre. Why on earth was I having these vivid, nonsensical dreams lately? Aren't pregnant women supposed to dream of cute animals or beautiful gardens? Why were my dreams so twisted?

As I sat up, I noticed a tiny snag in the fabric of my dress right over my stomach, as if it had been scratched by rough skin. Had my hands really gotten that calloused?

"Eleanor, I'm going to skip the grocery run with you today," I called out. "I think I need to do a hand mask and get some rest."

Maybe it was just my imagination, but Eleanor looked relieved, as if she had just shaken off an annoying burden.

Perhaps I was just being overly sensitive due to the pregnancy hormones. I remembered how, in my first month, I had sobbed uncontrollably just because Ethan took a few minutes too long in the shower.

Right after I finished applying my hand serum, the front door clicked open. I expected Eleanor, but to my surprise, it was Ethan. He had gotten home even faster than his mother, who had only gone to the local market down the street.

"Hey babe, I bought seafood Cajun boils for dinner!" Ethan grinned, holding up two containers. "I asked the doctor, and he said a little bit of shellfish is totally fine. I know you've been craving it for weeks. Where's Mom? She can whip up a couple of side dishes, and we can eat."

But when Eleanor walked in and saw the seafood containers on the table, her face darkened instantly.

Sure enough, when dinner was served, the seafood containers remained tightly sealed. The table held only a couple of plain vegetable dishes and, of course, the dreaded clay pot of broth.

Ethan lost his temper before I even could.

"Mom, the doctor literally said it's fine in moderation! Besides, keeping Daisy happy is what's most important right now. If her body is craving something, it means she needs it!"

The atmosphere turned icy. Eleanor refused to budge. With a sigh, I placed a spoonful of scrambled eggs into Ethan's bowl to calm him down.

Losing his appetite entirely, Ethan snatched up the seafood containers and grumbled, "Fine. If we can't eat it here, I’ll just go give it to Liam next door."

Eleanor lunged forward and grabbed his arm. "No! Liam is severely allergic to shellfish."

"Then I'll throw it in the trash! Nobody eats it!" Ethan snapped, storming out the door.