On the Winter Solstice, I delivered a son for the Miranda family.
My mother-in-law rushed all the way from her hometown to care for me during my confinement month. Gratitude warmed me at first.
It curdled fast.
The clash between her archaic confinement rules and modern medical advice left us constantly at each other's throats.
New Year's Day brought the tension to a breaking point. While she went downstairs, I sneaked some grapes from the refrigerator. Just something fresh. Something that wasn't gray soup or boiled cabbage.
The door clicked open behind me.
"Mila Fox, you simply won't listen!"
Her voice could shatter glass. "Fruit is cold energy. Eating it will ruin your body and taint my eldest grandson's milk!"
She snatched the bowl from my hands and dumped the grapes onto her niece Stella Chavez's plate.
Ten days of obstruction flashed through my mind. Ten days of being told what I could eat, when I could sleep, whether I could hold my own child.
Something inside me snapped.
I marched to the refrigerator, grabbed every piece of fruit inside, and hurled it all into the trash.
"If I can't eat it, why buy so much? It takes up space and wastes electricity. Get rid of it all!"
She froze. Her mouth hung open.
Then her legs gave out—or pretended to. She collapsed onto the floor, limbs sprawled, and began clapping her hands rhythmically as she wailed.
"What kind of daughter-in-law is this? She's a tyrant! A bully!"
——
Stella's eyes went wide. She scrambled out of the apartment and fled across the hall to her own home.
Spencer had been sleeping in the bedroom. The commotion dragged him out, eyes bleary, hair a mess.
"Mila, did you upset Mom again?"
He didn't ask what happened.
He didn't check on me.
He just slapped the blame squarely on my shoulders.
Was this the man who had promised to cherish me for a lifetime?
Before I could defend myself, my mother-in-law unleashed a torrent of accusations. "Tell me, how cold are those grapes? She just shoves them in her mouth! A woman's body is fragile during confinement. I stopped her for her own good, didn't I?"
She spoke with the absolute conviction of a martyr. In her mind, she could do no wrong.
"If you won't let me eat them, why buy them?" My voice shook. "The fridge is stuffed full."
For days, she had banned me from eating anything fresh or cold, yet she kept the refrigerator stocked. I had watched her daily ritual: selecting the best fruits and delivering them to Stella, her daughter's child.
My sister-in-law, Madeline Miranda, lived directly across the hall. When we bought this apartment, my mother-in-law had insisted on the location. *It's convenient for family to visit,* she had said.
Now I understood just how convenient.
Earlier, while Stella devoured the fruit, my mother-in-law had instructed her, "Stella, tell your mom to turn off her fridge. She can use your uncle's. It'll save your family some electricity."
At the time, I had laughed it off. The old woman certainly knew how to pinch pennies—as long as it benefited her daughter.
I had endured it all. She forbade fruit; I endured. She forbade me from washing my hair until my scalp itched maddeningly; I endured.
She forced me to drink soup swimming with a thick layer of grease, claiming it was best for lactation. "I have to fatten up my grandson," she'd say. I drank it, choking back the nausea.
On the fifth day, the greasy diet caused a blockage. My breasts became engorged, hard as rocks and radiating heat. A high fever followed.
The pain was blinding.
My mother-in-law told me to suck it up. She told Spencer to use physical cooling methods instead of medication. I begged him to call a doctor.
He wavered.
Ultimately, he sided with his mother. "Medicine will get into the milk. It's bad for Little Treasure."
That was the moment my love for Spencer Miranda began to die.
Before marriage, I had ignored my parents' warnings and followed him a thousand kilometers away from home. I thought I had found a partner who put me first.
Confinement revealed the true face of this family.
Desperate, I found a lactation specialist online and hired her to come to the house.
The moment she stepped through the door, cold glares from both my mother-in-law and Spencer greeted her. They tried to drive her away immediately.
