Chapter 3

Dinner ended in a tense silence. Afterward, Eleanor pulled me aside, looking deeply earnest and concerned.

"Daisy, please don't be mad at me. I'm doing this for your own good. Nowadays, restaurants put all kinds of chemicals in their food. You're so close to your due date; we can't let a silly craving ruin everything we've worked for. All that pain you went through would be for nothing. Once the baby is born, I’ll cook whatever you want."

She then asked me to calm Ethan down. I nodded, wondering why he was taking so long just to throw away some trash.

A few minutes later, Ethan slipped back into the bedroom. He locked the door behind him with a conspiratorial smirk and pulled a plastic container from behind his back. It was filled with freshly peeled shrimp and lobster tails.

"Here, eat up," he whispered, looking like a puppy waiting for praise. "Mom is just old-fashioned. This is my baby too, and I wouldn't do anything to hurt him, but I have to take care of my wife first."

Touched by his gesture, I hesitated for a moment before eating a few pieces. Surely a small handful wouldn't hurt.

But that night, my skin broke out in itchy red hives. Fortunately, Eleanor had some allergy ointment in her medicine cabinet.

Still, something felt off.

"Ethan, isn't this weird?" I asked as he applied the cream. "Neither of us is allergic to seafood. Even if I ate too much, shouldn't it be an upset stomach? Why am I breaking out in hives?"

Ethan sighed, looking incredibly guilty. "Maybe pregnancy just changed your body chemistry. Don't worry about it tonight. I'll take you for a full check-up tomorrow."

Suddenly, the name *Leo* popped into my head again.

When I mentioned it, Ethan smiled warmly and rubbed my belly, proud that our baby was "naming himself" so early, even if he got the surname wrong.

"Our boy is going to be a genius, Daisy. I've never heard anyone in our family use that name. We don't have any relatives with the last name Davis either... though, come to think of his name, Liam next door is Liam Davis. Mom always just calls him Liam."

The next morning, Ethan drove us straight to the clinic. Since some pregnancy examinations could be invasive, we brought Eleanor along for support.

After a grueling battery of tests, the doctor reviewed the charts and let out a small hum.

"Everything looks perfectly fine. The hives were likely caused by skin contact with some mild external allergen, not the seafood. If you weren't allergic before, you aren't allergic now. The baby is completely healthy and unaffected."

I let out a sigh of relief. I knew the seafood wasn't the culprit. Maybe Ethan had touched something dirty while peeling it.

As we were leaving the clinic, we ran into our next-door neighbor, Liam. He was limping out of the outpatient department, looking exhausted.

"Oh, hey there, Ethan, Eleanor," Liam greeted us, his voice strained. "Is everything okay with the baby?"

After a brief chat, we learned that Liam had slipped on the stairs and badly sprained his ankle. Feeling a sudden surge of neighborly pity, Eleanor immediately insisted that Liam come over to our place for dinner every day until he healed.

I couldn't help but feel a little uneasy. Liam was a lifelong bachelor, yes, but Eleanor was a married woman. Wasn't she being a little too eager?

Over the next few days, however, I felt guilty for my suspicious thoughts. The two of them barely interacted in any inappropriate way. Their eyes were clear, and at most, they only took short walks around the block together.

One afternoon, since Eleanor hadn't returned from her errands yet, I decided to walk to the local market myself. I wanted to feel useful instead of just sitting around the house like a helpless dependent.

About ten minutes later, I arrived at the butcher shop Eleanor always frequented. There were two meat stalls side by side. As I hesitated, one of the butchers called out to me.

"Hey, aren't you Eleanor's daughter-in-law? Did you guys move? I haven't seen her around here in almost six months!"