Know Your Place

It's the weekend and Dan's mom and sister are coming over for dinner. So that means that I have to cook up a storm because they always demand for different dishes. His parents are divorced and his dad is currently globe trotting with his new wife.

This time, his mother insisted I prepare a medium-rare steak with gravy, while his younger sister—never missing a chance to undermine me—demanded fried rice, ribeye, and coleslaw.

I’ve been in the kitchen all day, juggling pans and chopping ingredients, every muscle aching from the constant motion. Exhaustion weighs on me, but I don’t dare rest until everything is perfect. With only minutes left before they arrive, I’m still scrambling, a dozen little tasks left unfinished.

The house has to be spotless or Rose, Dan's mom will have something to say, she always does anyway.

We could have these meals ordered in but Dan would never hear of it. "Of what use are you then?" He would always ask. It's the reason he fired all the helps and makes me do all the chores. From cleaning to cooking and cleaning up after him, literally.

I check on the cake in the oven and readjust the temperature before going back to cutting the vegetables. Rose requested for a red velvet for desert and I must make it myself.

Things weren’t always this way between Dan and me. Back when we first met in college, he showered me with love and affection, constantly telling me how much he wanted to spend his life with me. I had just come out of a relationship with Liam, and my heart was still raw, so I wasn’t ready to dive into anything serious. But Dan was persistent—sending thoughtful gifts, leaving sweet messages, and persuading me to go on just one date with him.

In the end, I gave in. Dan was so charming and attentive on that first date, and he made me feel safe, even treasured. I agreed to a second, thinking it might finally be time to move on. Looking back now, though, I see it for what it was: love-bombing, drawing me in with overwhelming affection that seemed genuine but came with hidden edges.

Liam was only after what he thought I could offer back then, money and connection. My dad owned a prestigious advertising firm, so he had connections and that what Liam was coming after.

I should have realized this when he kept insisting I asked my dad to introduce him to his business associate,only months after we met.

But Liam’s true colors didn’t fully show until after we got married—and my family lost everything. Almost overnight, his demeanor shifted. The affection he once showed turned to coldness, and his family followed suit, treating me with disdain. It’s been downhill ever since.

I'm pulled from my thoughts as Dan strides into the kitchen, still dressed in his golfing attire from his morning out. His gaze sweeps over the counters laden with ingredients and the half-prepared dishes, and he barely acknowledges my presence.

"Welcome back! Did you have fun golfing?" I ask, doing my best to keep my tone upbeat as I move over to the stove, pouring the vegetables into a simmering pot.

Dan shoots me a withering look. "I went there to network, not to have fun," he replies, his voice thick with disdain. He drops his golf bag carelessly onto the kitchen floor, making no effort to put it away.

Then he heads to the refrigerator, grabs a bottle of water, takes a long drink, and, without a second thought, lets the empty bottle drop to the floor with a hollow clatter. I resist the urge to sigh as I look away.

"This kitchen looks like trash. Clean this place up—I don't want my mum coming to dinner and seeing this mess," he snaps, not even glancing at the bag and bottle he left scattered on the floor.

I watch him walk away, leaving his chaos in his wake as though it’s my duty to tidy up every step he takes. My throat tightens, but I swallow down the frustration, blinking back the sting of tears as I turn back to the stove. There’s no time to fall apart now, not when dinner still needs to be perfect.

By the time I finish cooking, I race around the house, scrubbing surfaces, arranging the plates, adjusting the flowers, until everything is spotless. Only then do I allow myself a break, hurrying to my bedroom to shower, hoping the hot water will wash away more than just the day’s work.

“We’ve been at the door for ages!” Angela , Dan’s younger sister huffs, pushing past me as soon as I open it.

“Where were you? Too important to answer the door now?” Rose’s voice drips with disdain.

“I’m sorry, I was upstairs—”

“Where’s my son?” she cuts in, her eyes scanning the hallway, dismissing my presence.

“Hey, everyone,” Dan says, appearing on the stairs, now fresh from his shower and dressed casually in shorts and a loose shirt.

“Dan, dear!” Rose’s face lights up, and she spreads her arms wide. Dan steps into her embrace, and the sight of them hugging sends a pang through my chest, bringing a sting of unwelcome tears.

Swallowing the ache, I walk back to the kitchen to set the rest of the dishes on the table, ensuring everything is in place for dinner.

“Why is this table dusty?” Rose asks, taking a seat at the dining table and wiping it with her finger, her expression one of disdain.

“This house looks unkempt,” Angela adds, her nose scrunched up in distaste.

“I cleaned it not too long ago,” I reply, trying to defend myself.

“Are you saying my mom and sister are lying?” Dan snaps, his tone sharp and defensive.

“Didn’t your mom teach you any manners?” Rose shoots back, casting me a disgusted look.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, looking down as I begin dishing out the meal.

We all sat down to eat, but I barely had a chance to take a spoonful before Rose chimed in, demanding something. “This steak is overcooked,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. Angela quickly followed suit, complaining that there wasn’t enough salt in her meal.

I ended up standing in the corner of the dining room, rushing to meet their every need while refilling their glasses and trying to keep my frustrations at bay. Once I finally served them dessert, I retreated to the kitchen to tackle the mountain of dishes. From the other room, I could hear Dan enthusiastically discussing how well his business was doing—the business that I had lent him money to start, money from my trust fund that he still hadn’t repaid.

“You should do better, Amber,” Angela drawls as she steps into the kitchen, a smug smile on her face. “That was the worst cake I’ve ever tasted. Did you even measure the ingredients?”

She always complains about my cooking but somehow manages to polish off her plate, just like her mother.

Ignoring her, I continue scrubbing the dishes, but she strides over to me, her tone condescending. “I saw you at the event last week mingling with the high and mighty. I hope you haven’t forgotten your place. My brother only lets you be seen with him outside because it’s good for his company’s image. Don’t you ever forget that.”

With that, she walks away, sashaying back to the dining room. I want to grab her by the hair and confront her about her disrespect, but once again, I hold myself back. Instead, I let the tears of frustration flow silently, mixing with the soapy water as I scrubbed away my pain.