They had clearly eaten well, yet they had left every single dish and mess for her to handle despite her long day.
“I have a career-defining presentation tomorrow,” Elara explained, trying to keep her voice steady. “I stayed late to ensure every detail was perfect so we can have a better future.”
Martha let out a sharp, mocking cackle that echoed off the walls. “Always the same tired excuse. Work, work, work… as if your little job is more important than the comfort of your family.”
Elara didn’t bother arguing; she knew from experience that silence was her only shield. She walked straight to the sink and began scrubbing the grease off the pans because she knew the house would be a war zone if she left it for the morning.
As she worked, she could hear the blare of a football game and Dante shouting at the television so loudly the neighbors were likely complaining. Their infant daughter, Maya, was hopefully still asleep in the nursery, tucked away from the chaos.