Chapter 1 - The Boiling Point

|
The air in the Nashville kitchen was thick with the suffocating scent of roasted garlic, heavy gravy, and simmering resentment. For six straight hours, I had been standing on my feet, navigating a chaotic maze of hot pans and boiling pots, catering to the loud laughter echoing from the living room. My mother-in-law, Brenda, had insisted on hosting this massive dinner party for eleven people to celebrate my sister-in-law Chloe’s recent promotion at a prestigious accounting firm.
Of course, "hosting" in Brenda's dictionary meant I did all the manual labor.
My name is Hannah. I am thirty-three years old, a successful interior designer based in Memphis. I have been married to Luke for four exhausting years. To his entitled family, my career—because it allowed me the flexibility to work from a laptop—wasn't a "real" job. To them, my flexible schedule meant I had plenty of free time to play the role of their unpaid personal chef and maid.
I wiped a bead of sweat from my forehead with the back of my forearm. On the counter sat the fruits of my grueling labor: a perfectly roasted brisket, a massive bowl of garlic mashed potatoes, seasoned green beans dripping in butter, rich brown gravy, fresh dinner rolls, and a delicate strawberry shortcake.
"Hannah! Are the rolls ready yet?" Brenda’s shrill voice pierced through the kitchen walls. "People are starving!"
"Coming!" I called back, my voice tight.
May you like
I grabbed a thick towel and reached into the blazing oven to pull out the heavy baking sheet. As I shifted my weight, the edge of the blazing hot metal slipped, searing violently against my right wrist. I gasped, dropping the tray onto the stovetop with a loud clatter. A nasty, angry red burn instantly blistered across my skin. I already had a painful cut on my left index finger from chopping vegetables earlier.
I stood there for a moment, clutching my injured wrist, waiting for someone—anyone—to ask if I was okay. The laughter in the living room didn't even pause. No one came to check. No one cared. I was just the help.