Ava
As evening settled in, Chris and I made our way downstairs, our stomachs grumbling in anticipation of dinner. However, as we descended the grand staircase, an acrid smell hit our noses.
“Is something burning?” I asked, wrinkling my nose against the sudden stench.
Chris nodded, his brow furrowed. “Sure smells like it. Let’s check the kitchen.”
We hurried toward the source of the smell, only to find that the kitchen was filled with smoke. Coughing, I rushed over to the oven and yanked it open. A blackened, smoking roast sat inside.
“Oh no,” I muttered, grabbing oven mitts and pulling the ruined dinner out. I quickly doused it with water in the sink, sending up a cloud of steam.
Chris, meanwhile, was trying to open a window to air out the room. As soon as he cracke
