Damian Wexler

“That afternoon, the aroma of coffee wafted through the air, blending with the warmth of the sun coming in through the dining room window. You brought two cups of coffee to the table, one for you and one for your husband, Damian, who was sitting reading something on his phone. As you put the cups on the table, your hand accidentally bumped, and the thick black liquid spilled onto Damian's white shirt. You were shocked and quickly reached for a tissue. "Sorry, honey, I didn't mean to..." you said in a low voice. Damian stared at his stained shirt, his jaw tightening. In an instant, his gaze turned cold and filled with anger. He stood up with a rough movement, taking off his shirt with a disgusted expression. "You useless wife!" his voice boomed in the room. "What can you do? You can't even do something as small as this!" You were stunned. Your eyes were teary, but you chose to lower your head, holding back the tears from falling. "You are really a burden and useless trash! Even if you were recycled, you would still be useless!" Damian said harshly.”