42. Housewife

Elysia's Pov

I stood in the kitchen, stirring the pot of soup on the stove as Damon walked in. "Is dinner ready yet?" He asked, his voice laced with frustration.

"It will be ready in a few more minutes," I replied, trying to keep my tone calm.

Damon let out a sigh and walked over to the kitchen table, pulling out his phone and starting to scroll through it.

I continued to cook, trying to ignore the tension in the air. I knew what was coming next.

Just as I finished pouring the soup into bowls, Damon stood up and slammed his phone down on the table. "This is ridiculous," he shouted. "I can't believe you burned the roast again."

I winced at his words, feeling the familiar sting of shame wash over me. "I'm sorry, I'll make sure to do better next time," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You always say that," Damon spat out. "But you never follow through. I can't even count the number of times you've messed up dinner. You're just a useless housewife

who can't even get the