Bianca
“I’m sorry, but…” I cupped my hand over my mouth and nose in an attempt to shield myself from the smell. “I’m not sure if I can eat this.”
The woman who brought me my dinner that night, an older housekeeper by the name of Lucille, narrowed her eyes at me. I felt a wave of humiliation wash over me, but it was nothing compared to the sensation of my gag reflex flaring to life.
“What’s wrong with the food?” she barked. “It’s healthy. It’s got all the vitamins a pregnant woman needs.”
I gulped down another gag. “I can tell,” I said, poking at the plate of boiled chicken, steamed kale, and… some kind of porridge that I couldn’t quite identify. “And I appreciate the effort, but the smell and texture are just too much. I’ll just throw it back up.”
Lucille huffed and pla
