3: 3
I froze.
I looked down at the egg in the bowl. If this wasn't a goose egg, what was it?
More of her spooky nonsense.
Anger flared up in me. I snapped a photo, sent it over, and demanded:
"Look closely. If this isn't a goose egg, what is it?"
Tilda's reply came almost instantly.
"Mia, I'm not lying to you. You really can't eat any more of it…"
"Once the blood-line on your belly reaches your heart, not even God himself can save you!"
"If you don't believe me, then give the goose egg to your mother-in-law or your husband. See if they dare eat it!"
And with that she hung up.
My nerves were shot. After what she'd said, I couldn't swallow the bite of egg still in my mouth.
I fought with myself for a moment, then carried the bowl out to the living room.
My mother-in-law was clearing the dishes. The second she saw the leftovers in my bowl, the smile froze on her face.
"Mia, why haven't you finished it?"
"I don't have much of an appetite today. I don't want it…"
Before I could finish, she suddenly raised her voice and shouted:
"No appetite!"
"How can you have no appetite! The thing in your belly is—"
Her whole face went red, her expression almost monstrous.
Then, as if she'd caught herself, she cut off mid-word. In an instant she wrenched a smile back onto her face.
"Mia, Mom isn't scolding you. I just worry about you."
"Every day you eat and throw up, throw up and eat. It's so hard to get any nutrition into you. If you don't eat, how will your body hold up?"
"These goose eggs, Mom went to several villages just to gather them. If you don't eat them, isn't it all a waste?"
As she spoke, she nudged the bowl toward me again.
My husband chimed in from beside her. "That's right, Mia. Mom means well. Just eat it!"
The two of them beamed at me, but their eyes were locked on the egg in the bowl.
Tilda's words came back to me, and my heart lurched. My instinct was to shrink away.
They kept staring at me, with a pressure that left no room for refusal. "Come on, eat!"
Without thinking, I picked up the plate and lifted it to my husband's mouth.
"If it's so good for you, then here, you eat it!"
But the moment I held it out, my mother-in-law shrieked behind me:
"He can't eat it!"
Slap! She knocked the plate out of my hand, and it shattered across the floor.
My heart clenched, and I turned to look at her.
That face, gentle and kind only moments ago, was now so dark it was almost dripping.
She glared at me for several seconds, then abruptly split into a tender smile again.
"You're just not hungry yet, aren't you? It's fine. When you get hungry later, Mom will make you more."
Her smile was gentle, but a chill ran down my back.
I quickly made an excuse about being sleepy and hurried back to my room, bolted the door, and called Tilda.
"Tilda, what on earth has my mother-in-law been feeding me? What does it have to do with the red marks on my belly?"
I was asking, but part of me still didn't want to believe my mother-in-law would hurt me.
I was an orphan, with no power and no connections.
After I married Zion Gilbert, both he and his mother had treated me incredibly well.
Now that I was carrying the Gilbert family's child, what could they possibly gain by hurting me?
"Have you ever heard of… the fetal-feeding curse?" Tilda said quietly.
"There's a forbidden folk art that plants something into a pregnant woman's body, something that can never be full. The reason you feel hungry is that the one who really wants to eat was never you."
"Once it has devoured every drop of blood and essence from you and the child in your womb, it will use your body to come back from the dead!"
My scalp crawled as I listened. I kept telling myself she was making up a story to scare me.
"If I'm not wrong, that thing's soul won't leave within thirty feet of your home. It has to have something to house it."
"Go look! Isn't there a memorial tablet enshrined in your house?"
Her words sent a cold sweat pouring down my back.
My father-in-law had died of esophageal cancer, and our home enshrined his memorial tablet…
