“You wouldn’t understand this because you don’t have children” The hairs on my body immediately stand on end the way a cat’s tail poofs up the moment they’re startled.
My brain has time-traveled 23 years into the past; I can hear my mother asking me when I’m going to make her grandbabies, the expectation of generations of women in my family wrapped up in her demand.
I feel the intense weight of duty crushing me, understanding that my only job in life, at least as far as my mother is concerned, is to marry well and procreate.
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