"You talk to me about nutrition?"
Serena’s voice was a jagged rasp, cutting through the sterile quiet of the VIP suite like a serrated blade. She stood over the small, plastic table, her hands trembling so violently that the watery rice porridge sloshed against the sides of the bowl.
"It’s like asking a starving beggar why they aren't eating steak," she snarled, her eyes brimming with hot, angry tears. "Do you even hear yourself, Derek? Or is the air too thin up there in whatever fantasy world you’ve built for yourself? 'Nutrition.' It’s a word for people who have lives, Derek. It’s a word for the privileged elite who spend their mornings at the country club and their evenings at the Riverbend Grand Hotel. It’s not a word for us."
She let out a harsh, broken sob, her shoulders heaving u
