The Broken Vow

"So, what are you going to do when Christopher comes back tomorrow?" Alexander's hand stopped an inch from the door. The bar did not usually have customers. So it was usually quiet. He stood in a quiet corridor of a bar in London, standing with a container of porridge warm against his palm. He had spent forty minutes cooking that evening, adding what her doctor had recommended, because Rosalie had said her stomach was hurting again. Then he had driven across London in the rain to bring it to her. For three years, looking after Rosalie had been part of his day. Scarlett Ashford. A lady of 26. Rosalie's best friend had never hidden what she thought of him. She was always telling Rosalie she deserved a husband with a career, a family name, and money of his own. He would have walked into the bar to give her the food if she hadn't said that name. Christopher Pierce. A young man of 27. The man Rosalie had loved before him. The man who had left the country three years ago, when she was 22, and left her heartbroken. Alexander remembered those weeks: the sleepless nights, the way she ate little. He had stayed beside her through all of it. Then she told him she had feelings for him and asked him to marry her, and he had believed her. He never asked why she chose him so soon. Inside, there was a short silence. Then Rosalie. "When Chris comes back, I'll divorce Alex." She said it like someone cancelling a dinner reservation. His grip tightened around the container. "You say that so easily," Scarlett said, and laughed. "What about the three years you've been married to him?" "What about them?" Rosalie sounded more impatient than guilty. "I was lonely, Alex was there, things happened, and we got married. That doesn't mean I have to spend my whole life with him." Alexander stared at the ground blankly. He thought of the ring she had pushed onto his finger. He thought of their first anniversary, which he had marked on their cupboard because she'd forgotten the date. He had told himself she just showed love differently. She chose me, didn't she? He had held on to that for three years. "Good," Scarlett said. "You're finally being sensible. Why keep a husband with no job, no name, no future?" "But Alex takes care of the house..." Rosalie suddenly started feeling guilty. "And that's supposed to impress me? You built the third-largest company in London's tech district. You work until you can barely stand. He just does chores. You could hire someone for that." "Scarlett, I think that's enough. Let's change the topic." That was all. She didn't say he's my husband. She didn't say he was there when I had nothing. Alexander counted slowly, giving her time to add one more sentence. He reached ten. Nothing came. He looked at the porridge. Carrying it in suddenly felt ridiculous. He pushed the door open. The talking stopped. Scarlett's smirk went stiff. Rosalie's eyes dropped to the container before they reached his face, and he watched the guilt and shock on her face. He set the porridge in front of her. "Your porridge. Your stomach was hurting this morning. Eat it before it gets cold." "Alex?" Her voice thinned. "What are you doing here? When did you get here?" "Since when do you ask me that?" He rolled his tongue in his mouth, nodding his head slowly. "I suppose I came at a bad time." "How long were you outside?" "Long enough." "Alexander, listen. What you heard—" "If you want a divorce, fine." His voice stayed even, and he saw that it scared her more than shouting would have. "I'm free tomorrow morning. You don't need to ask twice. I'll leave on my own." "You're taking it the wrong way. It was just casual talk." "Then you won't mind signing the papers." He walked out. ****** Rosalie sat back down slowly. She had expected questions, or a slammed door, or an accusation about Christopher. He had given her none. "Well," Scarlett said. "I didn't know your husband had it in him." "Shut up, Scarlett." Rosalie felt a bit of guilt. She knew she had started loving Alexander more than she was supposed to, but she had always wanted to be with Christopher. "Calm down," Scarlett said. The phone buzzed. Christopher's name popped in. ‘I land at ten tomorrow morning. I miss you. It's been three years, and I don't know if you still want to see me.’ Before she could move, Scarlett snatched it, pressed the microphone icon, and said brightly, "Of course I want to see you, darling. I love you most in this life." She hit send. "Give me that!" Rosalie grabbed it back. The message was already delivered. "Scarlett! I'm married!" "Not for much longer. Your husband just offered to leave tomorrow." Scarlett shrugged. "I'm giving you a push, Rosie. That's what best friends do. I won't watch you waste your life on a live-in son-in-law with no house, no business, no family. You run a company. He runs your dishwasher." Part of Rosalie wanted to delete it. Another part wanted him to listen to it. She turned the phone face down. Soon the talk drifted back to clients and gossip and Christopher's flight from Romania. Nobody wondered where he would sleep after they divorced. The porridge sat on the table, untouched. ****** Outside, it had started to rain again. Alexander looked back at the bar with a sigh. He had let people call him useless and let himself be a live-in son-in-law. Three years ago, when he was 24, she started her company, and he gave her five million from his private savings. He wanted her to be happy. He had been about to end the secrecy. He had meant to take her to meet his father, Elliot Cross, whom everyone called the old master, and his mother, Vanessa. Now there was no reason to. He found a number he hadn't called in three years. It rang once. "Sir?" The voice was startled, then disbelieving. "Sir, is it really you?" "Theodore." "Where have you been? We've been waiting for your instructions. The old master has—" "Listen carefully." The warmth was gone from his voice. "Starting tonight, stop every arrangement connected to Hayes Technology and Digital. The introductions, the favors, the resources. All of it." A long silence. Theodore Brooks had served the Cross family for decades. "Sir, what happened? I thought you were going to tell her who you are." "There's no need. Forget that plan." "But, sir—" "Do as I said, Theodore." He hung up. Tomorrow he would collect his things and sign the papers. He wouldn't ask her to choose him, and he wouldn't make her feel guilty for choosing Christopher. She had decided long before tonight. He was just the last to find out. He started the engine and pulled away from the bar.