Sin With Me | 18+ | ✔️

1 • Tough steak, tough life

I read the recipe's instructions again, making sure I'm doing everything right.

The steak must reach a certain temperature inside the oven, then I can take it out. Don't fuck it up!

I really suck at cooking, but it's my husband's favorite dish and I want to lighten up the mood. Tomorrow is our five year anniversary so I try to at least give him a good evening now, to make tomorrow even better. He hasn't been in a good mood for-... a long time. But I guess that's just what happens when you're married. My mother told me not to be ungrateful because he's the one making money.

Well, I'm the one bringing the food to the table by going grocery shopping and doing the cooking... No. Don't be ridiculous, she's right. I have nothing to complain about.

I take a look at the clock. It's almost 7 pm. I sigh. He told me he would be here at 6... At least I had enough time to make dinner, if he would've been here on point, the food wouldn't have been ready yet. That would have been a disaster. I try to think positive and be grateful, even though he was late more and more frequently.

I hope the vegetables aren't cold until the meat is done...

For a second I question how my life lead me up to this point. Doing nothing all day except cooking, cleaning and being presentable to my husband. The only good thing was the money that came with it.

Quickly I stopped my thoughts from going down that rabbit hole. Remember what your mother told you.

A well known noise catches my attention. It's the key unlocking the door. I quickly take the food out of the oven and place it onto the table while I hear him walking towards the mini bar, just like every evening.

I hurry to the next room to greet him.
I smile. "Hey," I say before pecking him on the lips. When I pull back, I look at him.

Wasn't his button up white this morning? He's wearing a black one instead...

"What are you wearing?" I ask, motioning to his shirt.

"I had to change at work. Got coffee all over it." He eyes me up and down, brows furrowed, lips twitched in disliking. "What are you wearing?"

I look down at my sweatpants, hoodie and dirty cooking apron. I feel my cheeks heating up. "Sorry, I forgot to change while cooking... I made your favorite dish."

He huffs, then goes to the kitchen. I strip out of the apron and throw it onto the floor before following him.

My husband's already sitting at the table, reading something on his phone. I serve the food onto his plate and do the same with mine.

Then we eat.
I watch him, waiting for some- any- kind of communcation. Instead, I try to start a conversation myself.

"How's the steak?"

He barely looks up from his plate. "Tough."

My smile fades. "Oh." I decide to eat in silence from now on, feeling like a total good-for-nothing, disastrous idiot.

When he swallows his last tough bite, he gets up, already looking at his phone again, answering an incoming call. Talking italian, he disappears through the open entrance and leaves me to the mess inside our kitchen.