Sarcastic Welcome
The door creaked open, and there stood Diane, coffee cup in hand, exuding an air of ownership that made my stomach churn. “Oh, Charlotte, do come in,” she said with a mocking lilt, gesturing me inside as though I were a mere guest in my own home. Her smug demeanor set my blood boiling, but I swallowed the anger and stepped through the threshold, steeling myself for whatever lay ahead. They might treat my house as if it were theirs, but I wouldn’t stoop to their theatrics. Not today.
Sarcastic Welcome
Dismissive Harold
Inside, the atmosphere was thick with tension as Harold barely acknowledged me. “This doesn’t concern you anymore,” he said dismissively, waving me off like an irritating fly. The audacity! Our exchange quickly escalated into a heated argument, but Harold remained maddeningly composed, brushing off my accusations as if they were mere delusions. Frustration tightened my fists. This was my house—yet somehow, I had become an outsider, forced to fight for what was rightfully mine.
Dismissive Harold
