I broke my promise the minute I saw her. Not in the way you probably think, though. It wasn’t a promise to take care of her because it was love at first sight. It was a promise to let her know, to let her know just what happened … took her because she deserved to suffer the way I had—emotionally. Alone even when surrounded by people. Lonesome for eternity.
She’d be my wife so she could live beside me, never finding love but only the indifference and hate I bestowed upon her. Who would want that kind of life by choice? Who would want to shackle themselves to a scarred man—both physically and mentally? I didn’t give her a choice. I gave her an ultimatum, and she couldn’t refuse. And I vowed she’d live a lonely life with a husband right beside her.
That’s the thing about vows … Sometimes, they are broken. And promises? Sometimes, you manage to keep them even when you don’t want to.
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