My DIL takes pride in her carrot cake, calling it her “specialty.” However, it consistently has a specific bitter taste. My son asks me not to say anything and just be nice to her. Yesterday, I froze when I overheard him whispering to her, “Mom has started to suspect that you’re…”
He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed me standing nearby. My daughter-in-law turned red, her hands clutching the mixing bowl as if it could shield her. “That I’m what?” I asked softly, trying to keep my tone light. My son laughed nervously and said, “That you’re… adding too much cinnamon again.” They both forced a smile, but something in the air told me there was more to the story.
