“After you’re done feeding my niece, you can get your hands dirty with this,” Bea said.

I took the baby off my breast, popped a pacifier in her mouth, swaddled her, and gently placed her in the bassinet perched on the kitchen table.

“Isn’t that supposed to be bad for the baby?” Bea asked.

“What do you mean ‘bad’?” I glared at my sister, hands on my hips.

She didn’t cower. “I heard that pacifiers deter babies from breastfeeding.”

“Well, I don’t care. Otherwise, she’d be stuck on my boob for the entire day. Or crying.” I pointed at the baby shifting in the bassinet as if she was trying to get comfortable.

“Maybe she needs that.”

“I don’t need that, and that’s good enough for me.” I put my hand on my chest, looking up as I held back the tears that came more readily these days, wishing I could just put some noise-cancelling earphones on and lie on the couch for a moment to sleep.

“Aren’t you going to change her? There’s spit-up all over her neck there.” Bea nudged me and tried to reach the baby, but I elbowed her away.

“I wiped it already. Will you stop?” The weight of her judgment was tugging the bags under my eyes, allowing the tears to pool there.

“Stop what?”

“You’re worse than Auntie Choo Neo. Maybe you’ve been spending too much time with her.” My voice quavered.

“Now that’s going too far.”

“You’re asking for it. You’re so judgmental in the worst way. You don’t even have a baby!”

“Ugh! I’m not an idiot, you know. I have friends with babies. And I’m just trying to be helpful.”

“Well, be helpful by serving up the crab.”

Bea saw the tears I wiped away from my eyes and finally stopped. I turned my back to her for a moment to carry the bassinet to the end of the kitchen table. I waited for her to say something more, but she didn’t, and I sat heavily at the table. Why couldn’t she just offer to watch the baby while I slept? I wanted so badly to close my eyes.

The baby agreed to sleep in her bassinet, while we dug into Auntie’s chili crab. The sweet and spicy sauce coated my fingers, and I gladly licked off every savoury droplet. We ate in silence for a few moments, passing the nutcracker, seafood picks, and forks between us.

After sucking a juicy chunk of meat out of the shell, Bea pointed at my ratty bathrobe and asked, “So is this your new getup?”

I didn’t look at my sister, annoyed that she was pushing my buttons again. “Why bother changing? The baby just spits up on me. And it’s not like I need to be anywhere.”

“Well, maybe you should get out of the house with the baby?” Bea stabbed her crab leg with a seafood pick, trying to fish the meat out.

I put down my empty shell and sighed. “I’m super tired. I don’t think you realize how little sleep I’m getting.”