𝔸ℙ𝔸𝕋ℍ𝕐

31. ℍ𝕖 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕕 𝕞𝕖

🎉🔥 IT'S FINALLY HERE! 🔥🎉

✨ After a tough few weeks 🌪️, I'm thrilled to announce that I'M BACK! 🎉 And I'm ready to deliver an UNFORGETTABLE CHAPTER 📚 that will leave you breathless! 💥

🚨 Brace yourself for a ROLLERCOASTER OF EMOTIONS 🎠 as the characters' stories unfold in this LONG-AWAITED UPDATE 📆! Get ready to laugh, cry, and cheer on your favorite characters! 🎉

👉 So, are you ready to dive back into the world of [APATHY]? 🌐 Let's do this! 💪

Myra's POV.

Myra stood in the kitchen, her hands shaking as she stared down at the recipe book lying open on the counter. Dante's mother, the formidable and intimidating Mrs. Adele, was coming to visit, and Dante had made it clear that Myra was to cook dinner for her.

Myra's stomach twisted into knots as she contemplated the task ahead. What if she messed up? What if the food was inedible?

The problem was, Myra had no idea how to cook. She had grown up with a personal chef and had never needed to learn. But Dante had been explicit in his instructions, and Myra knew that if she messed up, she would face his wrath.

She glanced around the kitchen, feeling overwhelmed by the stainless steel appliances and the rows of shiny cookware. Where did she even start?

Myra's eyes landed on the recipe book lying open on the counter. She had found it earlier, hoping it would provide some guidance. But the words blurred together on the page, making no sense to her.

Her hands shaking slightly as she adjusted the placement of the dishes for what felt like the hundredth time. She had spent hours watching YouTube tutorials, meticulously following the recipe, and praying that everything would turn out edible. Cooking was not Myra's forte, and the thought of serving a subpar meal to Dante and his mother made Myra's stomach twist with anxiety.

Taking a deep breath, Myra tried to calm her racing thoughts. She could do this. She just needed to follow the recipe and... and... well, hope for the best.

As she began to chop the vegetables, Myra's hands trembled slightly. She felt like she was walking on eggshells, waiting for Dante to come home and judge her cooking. She knew that if she failed, he would be furious, and she would have to face the consequences.

The kitchen, once a warm and inviting space, now felt like a battleground. Myra steeled herself for the challenge ahead, knowing that she had to prove herself to Dante.

But as she glanced at the clock, Myra's anxiety spiked. Dante would be home soon, and she was nowhere near finished. The kitchen, which had seemed so daunting just moments before, now felt like a ticking time bomb, waiting to unleash its culinary chaos upon her unsuspecting husband.

Myra's mind flashed back to the argument they had the night before. Dante had been cold and distant. Myra had felt a surge of resentment and fear, knowing that she was trapped in a marriage she didn't want.

Just then, the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of Mrs. De Adele's. Myra's heart sank, and she felt a wave of panic wash over her. She was not ready for this. She was not ready to face Dante's mother, or Dante's wrath.

As I heard the sound of the front door opening, I took a deep breath and smoothed out my apron. Here we go. I pasted a bright smile on my face and made my way to the dining room, where Dante and his mother, Adele, were already seated.

"Hey, sweetheart!" Dante said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. I knew he never liked me, and I could sense his disdain even in his greeting.

"Hey sweetheart!" I also greeted him back with a tight fake smile.