The day of the grape incident, I had watched her leave the apartment. The temptation was too strong.
I opened the fridge, spotted the Shine Muscat grapes, and took them.
I warmed them in water, desperate for a taste of normalcy.
Two grapes.
That's all I managed before she came back.
She exploded.
I snapped.
Now, standing amidst the ruined fruit, with Spencer siding with his screaming mother, I reached my limit.
Tears stung my eyes.
I was done.
I turned, marched into the bedroom, and scooped up my crying son. No packing. No changing out of my pajamas. Just Little Treasure clutched to my chest as I bolted for the door.
"What are you doing? Put the child down!"
My mother-in-law lunged. Her grip was iron, her nails digging into my arm hard enough to draw blood. I staggered back.
Little Treasure shrieked, his face turning purple. His tiny fist gripped my shirt in terror.
I wrenched my shoulder free. "Let go of me! This is my child! You don't control where I go!"
Spencer blocked the doorway, face twisted in a snarl. He spread his arms wide.
"You aren't going anywhere!"
Cold sweat soaked my back. My body was still weak from the birth and the fever; tremors racked my limbs.
"I gave birth ten days ago, but it feels like ten years in hell!" Tears streamed down my face. "You starve me. You control me. You ignored my fever. You mocked me when I was in pain. I can't stay in this house for another second. Spencer Miranda, I want a divorce!"
I shoved past him.
"Mila Fox is taking the baby! Stop her!" my mother-in-law screeched.
Madeline appeared in the hallway, grabbing my other arm. Against the three of them, I was losing.
But it was New Year's Day. The commotion drew neighbors out of their apartments.
"Hey, Miranda family! It's a holiday, what's going on?" a neighbor called out. "Your daughter-in-law is in confinement. Keep it down!"
An audience.
I abandoned all dignity. I wanted out.
"They won't let me eat! They won't let me care for my own child!" I shouted, pouring out every grievance from the past week.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"Young people do things scientifically now," one woman said, frowning at my mother-in-law. "You can't force the old ways on them."
"Exactly," another added. "The mother's health comes first during confinement."
"And really," a man said, eyeing Madeline, "married daughters shouldn't meddle so much in their brother's household."
The tide turned.
Spencer panicked. He grabbed my arm, trying to drag me back inside. "Mila, stop making a scene! Why are you so ungrateful? Mom is doing this for you!"
Hearing her son's defense, my mother-in-law wailed louder. "My fate is so bitter! I treat her with kindness, and she throws it back in my face!"
Madeline's face flushed red, then white. A shaking finger pointed at my nose.
"You're just delicate! You're a snob! You think our family isn't good enough for you, is that it? You look down on us!"
I took a step back, clutching Little Treasure tight. My gaze turned colder than the winter air.
"Look down on you? I knew exactly what your family was when I married him. If I was a snob, I never would have looked twice at Spencer Miranda." My voice dropped, sharp as a blade. "Right now, I just want to get away from you psychos."
Little Treasure's voice was hoarse from crying. I patted his back, my words softening to a whisper.
"Don't cry, baby. Mommy is taking you away."
I pressed my lips to his forehead.
