Every Promise He Made, He Broke

In three years of marriage, Ethan never once sat down and shared a meal with me.

I couldn't go a single meal without fish, but he'd curse at the mere whiff of it—said it reeked.

So every time he sat at the dining table, I'd carry my plate to the living room and eat alone.

When I was done, I'd rinse my mouth three times before daring to kiss him, and even then he'd grimace and pull away.

I told myself it was his boundary, and I needed to respect it.

Three years. Every single day.

Until my birthday, when I went to the fish market to buy something for soup.