But my illusions were shattered when I overheard their conversation as I stood in the kitchen. The whispered words were a dagger to my heart, mocking my efforts and casting me as the incompetent daughter-in-law. My face flushed with anger, and my hands trembled as I realized the depth of their disdain. The façade of politeness they wore was nothing more than a thin veil covering their true feelings.

Fueled by a surge of indignation, I stormed back into the living room, spaghetti in hand. In a moment of fury, I upended the plate over my mother-in-law’s head, the sauce dripping down her shocked face. Her friends erupted in laughter, a chorus of mockery that shattered any remaining composure I possessed. I met their eyes, my voice quivering with a mix of rage and sorrow as I declared, “Serves you right, pathetic creature! And you, snakes, if you don’t want to clean the pasta off her head – get out of this house immediately!”