Corinne's expression turned panicked.
"Calvin, I'm sorry, I didn't know! Queenie didn't explain it clearly."
I laughed in disbelief.
"Corinne, you're a college student now. Can you not understand plain English? I told you I had something important today and asked you not to come into the room. But you barged in anyway—with a speaker, dancing."
Corinne burst into tears.
"I really didn't mean to! If I'd known it was you, I never would have done it."
Calvin looked at her sobbing face with growing impatience.
"Corinne, is crying the only thing you know how to do?"
That evening, Corinne somehow managed to coax him back into a good mood.
"Calvin, I'll make your favorite braised fish tonight—to make up for what I did."
When I stepped out of my room, I caught a whiff of gas. In my previous life, I had specifically reminded Corinne to turn off the gas after cooking to prevent poisoning.
She had smiled and agreed. But during dinner, she deliberately got me drunk, then locked me in the kitchen with the gas running. I died of gas poisoning.
She had stood outside the door, gloating.
"Trying to tell me what to do? I specialize in putting people like you in their place."
I swallowed my hatred. Looking at Calvin, something occurred to me. I turned to Corinne.
"Corinne, remember to turn off the gas when you're done cooking."
She nodded. "I know, Queenie."
That night, Corinne tried to ply me with alcohol again.
"Queenie, I've caused you both so much trouble these past few days. I hope you don't hold it against me. Let me toast you."
I didn't move. Corinne's face fell, a wounded look creeping in.
"Are you still mad at me?"
Calvin tugged my arm. "Just drink it. Don't upset her."
I pulled out a pregnancy test.
"It's not that I don't want to drink, Corinne. I can't."
Before, I had mentioned I might be pregnant, but the test came back negative. My in-laws had berated me for getting their hopes up. Calvin kept staring at my stomach, calling me useless. But now, seeing the positive test, excitement flooded his face.
"Right, she can't drink. I'll drink with you instead, Corinne."
Corinne stared at my belly. A flash of hatred flickered in her eyes.
About fifteen minutes later, she turned to me.
"Queenie, I made you some soup earlier but forgot to bring it out. I twisted my ankle just now—could you go get it for me?"
I nodded and started to rise, then paused as if remembering something.
"Oh, Corinne—you've taken such good care of us lately. I bought you a piece of jewelry from Goldsmith's. It's on my vanity. Why don't you go grab it?"
Her eyes lit up. But as she headed toward my room, she made sure to remind me: "The soup will get cold if you wait too long. Hurry and bring it out."
I nodded. Once she disappeared into my room, I clutched my stomach.
"Calvin, can you get the soup? My stomach hurts—I need to check on something in the bathroom."
I rushed off before he could respond. Calvin turned and walked into the kitchen.
Through the crack in the bathroom door, I watched Corinne sprint to the kitchen entrance and lock the door behind him.
A few minutes later, a deafening boom erupted from the kitchen.
Neighbors came running.
"What happened?"
"Sounded like a gas explosion!"
Corinne's face was a mask of innocence and false concern.
"I don't know! I asked Queenie to get the soup—how did it suddenly explode? Oh, Queenie, please be okay!"
I stepped out of the bathroom.
"What are you talking about, Corinne? Why wouldn't I be okay?"
She froze the moment she saw me.
"Queenie, weren't you the one who went to the kitchen? If it wasn't you in there, then who was it?"
I feigned panic as I spoke. "I had a stomachache, so I asked Calvin to get the soup instead. That explosion just now—please don't tell me something happened to my husband?"
