He Promised Me Forever, Then Married My Cousin

The glass shattered before the words did. My hands had been trembling for a while, but when the water spilled, it finally slipped and broke on the tiles. Shards scattered at my feet.

That was when my father stormed in.

“The hell is this now?” Joseph barked, his face twisted with irritation. “Are you really this useless? You can’t even hold a damn glass? You know how much that cost? You can’t even pay for your own food, and now you’re breaking things?”

I bent down to pick the pieces, but my hands were shaking too much. A sharp edge sliced my palm. Blood beaded, then trailed down my wrist. I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t.

Alaric chuckled lightly beside him, almost embarrassed. “Don’t be too harsh on her, Father. She’s still your daughter.”

But my father wasn’t done.

“You’re the same age as Isolde, yet she looks ten years younger. She walks with purpose. You? You drag your feet like you’re already dead. Honestly, sometimes I wish Isolde was my daughter instead of you.”

Alaric exhaled, shaking his head. “Don’t take it too seriously, Corinne. We just want you to… improve. Be more like Isolde, maybe.”

My father spat, “Improve? There’s no improving her. You said it yourself once, Alaric. You regretted marrying young. You said Isolde was the better candidate. And I agreed. But you still married my daughter. She should be grateful for that every day of her life.”

I heard Alaric’s voice, crueler now. “Well, Isolde is admirable, but Corinne… Corinne is convenient.”

Convenient. Like a rag. Like furniture no one bothers to polish.

I pressed the bloodied shards tighter in my hands, my chest tight. The sound of their laughter blurred as I washed the blood away under the tap. The water ran red, then clear. My reflection stared back from the kitchen window. Who is she? This faded woman. This ghost.

And yet, when the table was set later, I carried the bowls of soup one by one like a servant. It was what Alaric wanted for dinner.

He took one sip, then spat it out. “What the hell is this? It tastes like garbage.”

Only then did I remember why I had spoken earlier. Why I had dared to ask him.

“Do you remember what you promised me when we got married?” I whispered.

He didn’t lift his head from his phone.

“We never had a wedding. Just signed the papers at city hall, and then… life got busy. But this year—it’s our twenty-fifth. I thought maybe… we could go on a cruise. Just the two of us.”

He looked up at me, his eyes narrowing, like I had just offended him.

“A cruise?” he barked, then laughed sharp and cold. “What for? You’re old enough to know better. Cruises aren’t for women like you. You don’t even have your own money, Corinne. You want to use mine for some stupid luxury when the company’s barely holding on? Do you even care about me? About what I’m going through?”

His words sliced deeper than glass.

“I just…” My voice broke. “I just want to enjoy something. Anything. For twenty-five years, I stayed here. You promised me a wedding back then. Maybe this could be the time—”

“Enjoy?” His voice turned louder, sharper. “Are you saying you didn’t enjoy your life for the past twenty-five years? Are you blaming me for how boring it was? You sound ungrateful, Corinne. I worked my ass off, and you just stayed here—cleaning, eating, no real stress. Maybe you should be more like your cousin Isolde. Now that’s a woman. Smart, successful. Doesn’t rely on anyone for her stupid whims.”

And so, on the night of our twenty-fifth anniversary, this was what I got. Not a promise kept. Not a moment of love. Only the reminder that for twenty-five years, I had served my husband and my son, forgetting myself entirely.

And still, I wasn’t enough.