"If you can't manage the dessert, at least eat something. It's your family's way of showing love. We're all together for once. Just humor them."
The passive aggression was impossible to miss. Before I could react, Frederick lifted a piece of food to my mouth and pushed it in.
The moment it hit my throat, I gagged and spat it out. Mango fibers. My skin flushed red almost instantly, hives blooming across my arms. My breathing turned shallow and ragged.
Just as I'd expected. An allergic reaction.
Agatha stumbled backward and collapsed to the floor in theatrical shock. My parents rushed to shield her, pulling her away so she wouldn't have to see my swollen, blotchy face. Frederick hurried over to comfort her too.
I staggered to the bathroom and shoved my fingers down my throat, retching until there was nothing left. I found the medication myself. It took thirty minutes before my body slowly returned to something close to normal.
I leaned against the wall, gasping. Once my heartbeat steadied, I decided to stay in the bathroom a while longer. I had no desire to rejoin that farce of a dinner.
After another fifteen minutes, I'd finally calmed down. I reached for the door handle and froze.
My mother's voice, just outside.
"You two already made her lose the baby last time. You need to watch how far you push things. Today you nearly killed her!"
A pause, then: "You just found out you're pregnant yourself. Think about the child in your belly and show some restraint."
Rage detonated inside my chest. My eyes went wide. Agatha was pregnant too? My parents already knew? They knew about my allergy and they'd still let Agatha pull this stunt?
My heart plummeted. The pain in my chest felt like something being carved out of me with a dull blade. I wiped my tears, forced air into my burning lungs, and threw the door open.
"What the hell did you just say, Mom?" I was shaking. "Agatha made me lose my baby on purpose? And you helped her do it?"
I screamed it. In my fury, I hurled the miscarriage report straight at her face, demanding to know why not one of them had asked me a single question about losing my child.
"Who is your real daughter here?" I roared.
"I already apologized, sis." Agatha's voice was soft, her expression the picture of innocence. "If you're angry, take it out on me. Don't yell at Mom."