AN: Hi guys yogaduck here. Been a devoted fan of these two for years and I've finally got around to publishing some of the little fics I've written. This is my first time publishing a fic so please be nice! But of course constructive criticism is always welcome :) reviews would be amazing xox
Her eyes filled with tears as she turned her face away from him, resolutely looking at the pattern on the table cloth. He could be so cruel. All she'd wanted was to make him happy. To cook for him, to look after him.
He sceptically hummed as he further inspected his plate that she'd laid before him. The tears were almost spilling over but she willed them not to break through. She suddenly wasn't hungry. She felt an emptiness settle upon her.
She recalled her mother's cruel words spoken to her as a young girl, 'You will never be good enough. No man wants a wife who cannot cook.'
This was enough to send the tears down her cheeks like a river breaking free from a dam. She stood up quickly turning her face away from him so he couldn't see her tears and murmured something about not being hungry, before scurrying off to start on the dishes.
She knew it was impossible to avoid him for long but she didn't want to let him see how much he had upset her. He deserved a wife who can cook well and he had every right to be less than satisfied. She just wasn't good enough. But she had to be good enough. Good enough for him. So she promised herself she would request help from Beryl and try her hardest to produce something edible.
She wasn't angry he didn't like the food. How could he? Even she would admit it was hardly palatable. She was more angry at herself for only proving her mother right all these years later.
Once in the kitchen she let her tears flow freely. She clasped a hand to her mouth to prevent her sobs being audible as her shoulders silently rocked. She didn't deserve him. He deserved better. She briefly wondered whether Alice would have been better at cooking, but cast the thought away as a sharp pain grasped her heart at the memory of his other love.
Her hand was still clasped firmly over her mouth whilst the other gripped the edge of the kitchen table for support. She lowered her head in an effort to prevent further sobs, but to no avail. They just kept coming. All the built up hurt from hearing her own mother commend her so harshly had all been brought to reality. She told herself for years that she wasn't that bad and that her mother was merely exaggerating. She had even thought it would never be put to the test. That she would never marry. But she did. To the dearest, sweetest man.
Whom she did not deserve.
Too short? Should I continue with this or leave it as a one shot? Tell me what you think, there can always be more chapters if you like it xox