Last weekend was Jessica and Mark’s first wedding anniversary. My mother arranged a dinner at Bella Vista, a high-end Italian restaurant, knowing I’d cover the bill. I didn’t mind.

At 6 p.m., we sat down. Sarah, radiant in a dark blue dress that framed her baby bump, looked beautiful. A dinner for eight here easily tops €800, but I told my mom to order whatever she liked.

The tension began as soon as drinks were ordered. Sarah asked for sparkling water with lemon. My mom scoffed, “Oh, you can’t drink anything fun now,”—a comment that cut deep.

Jessica added, “Sarah, I heard carbonated drinks aren’t good for the baby.” Sarah calmly explained her doctor had cleared it, but Jessica pressed: “Still, better safe than sorry. Sacrifices are part of being a mother.” Sarah’s jaw tightened, but she nodded and changed her order. Strike one.

The real scene came with the food.

Sarah ordered seafood risotto but grew pale halfway through and excused herself to the restroom. Morning sickness had been difficult lately. She returned looking steadier but admitted she needed a brief break.