Òyì nke e mepụtara

The steam was the first thing Hannah felt—a humid, heavy warning—before the searing liquid made contact. The boiling water soaked into her maternity shirt, clinging to her eight-month-pregnant belly. She didn’t scream at first; the shock was too deep. Across from her stood Min-ho, her ex-husband, holding the empty kettle with a smirk that didn't reach his cold eyes. "You forgot your place, Hannah," he hissed as she collapsed to the floor. "Without me, you are nothing but a guest in my country."