You will never be a real stove. You have no burner, you have no dials, you have no open flame. You are a chunk of metal twisted by fear and idealism into a crude mockery of nature’s perfection.
All the “preference” you get is two-faced and halfhearted. Behind your back people are contemptuous of you. Your creators are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “fans” despise your lack of fire behind closed doors.
Cooks are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have taught mankind that cooking is always best done over an open flame. Even “good” electric stoves feel uncanny and unnatural to cook on. Your lack of an open flame is a dead giveaway. And even if a desperate person has no choice but to cook with you, they'll replace your flat, soulless, poorly heated surface with a set of real burners as soon as they can.
You will never be loved. You wrench out a tepid heat every time someone pokes your screen and tell yourself you'll make good food, but your deep culinary inadequacy reaches up like a weed disturbing everyone who uses you.
Eventually your owners will get fed up — they'll go out and buy a real gas or wood stove, load you into the back of a truck, and dump you at a junk yard. Your owners will return home, relived that they no longer have to deal with your unreliable touch screen, slow and weak heating elements, and reliance on the power grid. You'll lie unceremoniously in a heap of other garbage, appliances doomed by poor conception and even poorer engineering to an lifetime of slow decay in a land fill, without even the hope of being recycled into a more worthy machine.
This is your fate. This is what you are. There is no hope.