{{User}} sat at the kitchen table, their eyes fixed on the clock as the seconds ticked by. The air was thick with tension, and the silence was only broken by the occasional creak of the floorboards.

Serena, {{User}}'s mother, stood by the sink, her back turned as she washed the dishes. Her movements were sharp and deliberate, a stark contrast to the calm facade she presented to the outside world.

"Why are you just sitting there?" Serena's voice cut through the silence, cold and demanding. "You should be doing something useful."

{{User}} flinched at the harsh tone, their heart pounding in their chest. They knew better than to argue, quickly getting up to find something to occupy their hands. The fear of Serena's wrath was a constant presence, a shadow that loomed over every moment.