CHAPTER TWO: TROUBLED
The echoes of Lady G's curses filled the room as Williams swept diligently, his eyes cast down. He pondered the irony of being treated this way within the family he had married into. Mrs. Bimbo, still amused by the spectacle, couldn't comprehend the severity of the situation. "Your daughter must regret this marriage," she remarked, her tone condescending.
Gina, unyielding in her anger, nodded vehemently. "Regret doesn't even begin to cover it. He's a stain on our family name."
Williams, fidgeting with the broom, felt a mix of anger and sadness. He couldn't understand how he had become the target of such disdain. As he swept closer to Gina, her curses intensified, and the words cut through him like a knife.
Mrs. Bimbo, curious about the dynamics, asked, "Why did she marry him? What happened to your plans for her to marry into a wealthy and influential family?"
Gina, with a bitter laugh, explained, "It was all against my wishes. She fell for him, a nobody. Now we have to endure this embarrassment."
The scorn in Gina's voice resonated, and as Williams continued his task, he overheard the conversation, each word intensifying the pain. Mrs. Bimbo, though amused, couldn't fathom the depths of the family's dysfunction.
As Williams moved toward the kitchen to fetch a new dish, Mrs. Bimbo, still reveling in the spectacle, said, "This is unbelievable. I expected more from your family, Gina. I'm truly disappointed."
Gina, not one to shy away from airing her grievances, responded, "Believe me, Bimbo, I am equally disappointed. I had high hopes for Julian, but look what she brought into our lives."
Williams, now in the kitchen, faced the daunting challenge of preparing a new meal within the absurd time frame set by Lady G. The echoes of their scornful words lingered, but he couldn't afford to dwell on them. The clock was ticking, and with each passing second, the pressure mounted.
As Williams hurriedly worked in the kitchen, he couldn't shake off the weight of the insults. The slaps, curses, and laughter reverberated in his mind. He wondered how he could endure this treatment day after day. The dream of a happy family life had turned into a nightmare, and he couldn't see a way out.
Meanwhile, back in the living room, the conversation between Gina and Mrs. Bimbo took a new turn. Gina, now pouring herself a glass of wine, continued to vent her frustrations. "I can't believe my daughter chose him over the eligible bachelors I introduced her to. It's a disgrace."
Mrs. Bimbo, sipping her drink, added, "I've always said, marrying into a good family is crucial. It seems Julian missed that memo."
The disdain in their voices painted a bleak picture for Williams. He felt the sting not only of the physical blows but also of the wounds to his pride and dignity. The kitchen, usually a place of warmth and sustenance, had transformed into a battlefield where Williams fought against time and humiliation.
As Williams plated the new dish, the aroma filled the kitchen. He hoped that at least the taste would provide some reprieve from the storm in the living room. The clock showed that the two minutes were almost up, and Williams, with a heavy heart, carried the freshly prepared meal to the living room.
Lady G, expectant and still seething with anger, looked at him with disdain. "Finally! Let's hope this is at least edible."
Williams, maintaining his composure, served the dish with a forced smile. "I hope you enjoy it, ma'am."
Gina, taking a bite, scowled. "It's barely passable. You should be grateful I'm even eating this."
Mrs. Bimbo, no longer amused, observed the scene with a raised eyebrow. The tension in the room hung thick, and the weight on Williams' shoulders remained unlifted.
The evening, which had started with promise and celebration, had devolved into a painful ordeal for Williams. As he retreated to the kitchen, the voices of Lady G and Mrs. Bimbo continued their conversation, further intensifying the storm that raged within the Peterson's household.
In the quiet solitude of the kitchen, Williams contemplated his next steps. The scars from the evening's events were etched deeply, and the reality of his situation loomed large. As he pondered whether he could endure this life any longer, the kitchen, once a place of comfort, now felt like a refuge from the turmoil outside its walls.
s the sun dipped low in the evening sky, Williams found himself in the garden, tending to the flowers. He had a watering can in hand, sprinkling water on the vibrant blooms. The rhythmic sound of droplets hitting the soil offered a brief escape from the troubles that had unfolded earlier in the house.
Julian, his wife, arrived home after a long day at work. She looked tired, and her steps towards the house were heavy. Williams, holding the watering can, rushed to meet her, hoping to ease her burden by carrying her suitcase. However, Julian paid him no attention and walked past him without a word, leaving him standing with her suitcase in hand.
Undeterred, Williams followed her into the house, trying to initiate a conversation. "How was your day, Julian?" he asked, genuinely concerned.
Julian, still appearing distant, replied coldly, "Just tired, Williams. I don't need your questions right now."
His effort at communication thwarted, Williams proceeded to carry her suitcase to their bedroom. The room, once a place of shared dreams, now felt like a battleground filled with unspoken resentment.
In the kitchen, Williams, torn between his duty and wounded pride, began preparing a meal for Julian. The clattering of pots and pans echoed in the silent house, each sound a reminder of the fractured harmony that once existed.
As he plated the food, Williams couldn't shake the heaviness in his chest. The meal, meticulously prepared, represented an offering—a gesture of reconciliation. With the plated food in hand, he hesitated at the bedroom door, taking a deep breath before entering.
"Julian," he began tentatively, "I've prepared dinner for you. I hope you'll eat."
Julian, sitting on the bed with a detached gaze, barely acknowledged his presence. Williams, placing the plate on the bedside table, left the room with the weight of unmet expectations and the lingering echoes of another rejection.