The Carrot Trap
Language: en
I am deathly allergic to carrots. The anaphylactic shock kind. My mother-in-law knew this. In my past life, she finely minced a carrot and mixed it into a meatloaf. I realized it early enough and used the excuse, "I'm pregnant," to dodge a bullet. She held a grudge against me for an entire year after that. A year later, three months postpartum, she tried it again. That time, I didn't catch it. My husband cried for two days. On the third day, he was sitting in his mother's living room, calmly drinking the chicken noodle soup she made him. Reborn. I stared down at the bowl in front of…