When my mom was critically ill, her last wish was for me to marry before she passed. She knew my dad had died years before, and I was the only one left by her side.
She wouldn’t be at peace until she knew I was settled, with someone who could take care of me after she was gone. Michael seemed like the perfect choice in her eyes.
He wasn’t just anyone—he was our relative’s son, and since his family struggled financially, my mom had practically raised him.
She helped him through school, gave him opportunities, and trusted him with our family business. And to be fair, under his leadership, the business flourished.
After everything we had done for him, Michael couldn’t refuse when my mom asked him to marry me. I admired him, so I had no objections either.
We went to the City Hall, signed the papers, and that was that. No party, no announcements, just a quiet marriage no one else knew about.
But I was naïve. I had no idea this was the beginning of a resentment that would last for years.
What I didn’t know at the time was that long before we got married, Michael had wanted to be with someone else—Alison, my childhood best friend.
I would never forget that one night, years into our marriage, when he came home drunk and let it all slip.
“You’re just an obstacle,” he slurred, his words like knives. “An obstacle in my life, in my relationship with Alison. If it wasn’t for you and your mom, I’d be married to her by now.”
It felt like my heart shattered in that moment, but it wasn’t the first time Michael had broken it, and it wouldn’t be the last.
Over the years, I watched him choose Alison over me and Lily, time and time again. Missed birthdays, family dinners, important milestones—he was never there. Lily, bless her, always tried so hard to be the perfect daughter, hoping one day he would finally love her the way she deserved.
Every time she asked where her dad was, I’d give the same excuse, “He’s busy with work, sweetie.”
But she wasn’t fooled, not really. There were so many nights when she would stay up late, refusing to go to bed until he came home.
I’d end up carrying her, asleep in my arms, to her bed, only to hear her disappointment the next morning when she realized she had missed him again.