I shook off his grip at last. “What will happen to me when I come home defiled?” The anger bled from his eyes, replaced with something that might have been regret. “You’ll marry whomever you choose,” he said hoarsely. “I meant what I said. You’ll pick your own husband.” “As if I could ever trust your word again.” My hand itched to slap him, but a lifetime of deference held me in check. “I’ll never forgive you for this.” “Given—” “Never.”
Yikes
Betrayal is a gut punch
But your family…? Woof
