Arguing with Fiona

Then I turned to George, "You might as well take care of your sister. My gallbladder hasn't been good these days, I've been feeling nauseous, and I went to the hospital this afternoon! The doctor advised me to watch my diet."

I noticed George's face turn uneasy, his emotions unclear as he paused with his fork in mid-air and looked at me.

Fiona sneakily glanced at George, pushed her plate away a bit, and muttered, "I surely don't want your leftovers."

I chuckled with a hint of sarcasm, "Is that so? It's just food, not someone else's leftovers. Besides, I haven't even touched it!"

Inside, I felt indignant. Not picking my leftovers? Yet you pick up and use the man I've been with, and you still claim you don't want my leftovers?

The old lady glanced at Fiona, "You're always so sharp-tongued. With that attitude, what kind of family will ever accept you?"