Tiffany guffawed so hard in Schadenfreude that she could almost be mistaken as having a seizure. “Oh my god! Oh. My. God. So you’ve lost your personal agency now? Come on, bae, you’re the one with the crowned jewel in your tummy! You’re the boss now, not him! You could lynch Mark to death, and he still wouldn’t be able to harm a single hair on your head in defense, get it?"
"You gotta’ be ruthless right now, like right frickin’ now, cause’ you aren’t getting that chance anymore. Don’t you know that a woman is at the height of power during her pregnancy? So hell yeah, be a tyrant, sis! Once that child’s born, you ain’t never getting that power back!” she reminded. “Now, if you manage to obtain his ‘permission,’ tell me, and I’ll ring up Tanya. We’ll have hotpot together at night! We’ll get the spicy one, and you can have the non-spicy broth. I mean, I heard that food that is too spicy could harm an expecting mother.”
Just mentioning hotpot made Arianne swallow her saliva. Few things in life are as fulfilling as having a big pot of warm broth with one’s closest friends during winter! Quickly, she found herself bursting with longingness. Not a single part of her even tried to resist the temptation.
“You know what? Okay. I’ll call you a little while later,” she said finally.
She hung up the phone and shot a contemplative look in the direction of the bathroom as she wrote scripts on asking Mark’s permission. Her appetite had dwindled so much that this sudden craving for hotpot was killing her. If she was denied permission to fulfil it, she might die!
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