"How did you burn yourself? Where does it hurt?"
"I couldn't hold on to it. I'm so clumsy, Oscar."
"It's fine, it's fine. It's not your fault."
Oscar coaxed her gently, then turned to look at me.
"Dora, Summer doesn't have anything to eat now. Your bowl—"
I stared at him. The hand gripping my chopsticks was trembling.
"You want me to give her my bowl?"
A flicker of discomfort crossed his face, but he pressed on. "You can't eat that many anyway. Just give her a few. And the one with the gold coin... could you let her have it?"
"What did you just say?" I was certain I'd misheard.
Oscar looked away, his voice dropping. "Summer just got back to the country. Her career is barely off the ground—she could use a little good luck. You already have everything. I'm your husband. Whatever wish you'd make, I can grant it myself. You don't need that coin."
"Just let her have this. Okay?"
I already have everything?
I had this frigid mansion. I had a marriage that existed in name only. And I had a husband whose heart and eyes were full of another woman.
He was right. I really did "have it all."
I looked down at the dumpling in my bowl—the one hiding the gold coin. The one he'd promised just minutes ago would grant "any wish at all."
Now he wanted to hand that promise to someone else.
"Oscar."
I picked up the bowl and rose to my feet.
"You really want to give this to her?"
Impatience bled into his expression. "It's one dumpling. Is this really necessary? It's New Year's Eve—do you have to make a scene?"
"Fine."
I nodded.
"She can have it."
I walked to the trash can. Right in front of both of them, I hurled the bowl—dumplings and all—straight into it.
Crash.
Porcelain shattered. Dumplings scattered across the garbage.
"I'd sooner feed it to a dog than give it to her."
