Page 51 of The Vow Thief
“She pitied me,” Lily whispered.“That’s worse than hate.”
“You wanted to matter more than she did.”
“Yes,” she said, barely audible.“I wanted to be the woman he couldn’t forget.”
“And are you?”
Her throat worked before she answered.“I think so. But not in the way I wanted.”
I studied her.“And what way does he remember you, now?”
“As the woman that ruins people,” she said.“Including me.”
“Loving him cost you something.”
“It cost me myself. It's why I went to jail. Why I'm here. Why I'll never be free of my father's hold again.”
Lily’s eyes stayed on her hands.“My dad called me a vow thief. The truth is, so is he. He married my mother, and they had me. Then he just threw it all away for woman after woman. I watched my mother turn into a hopeless shell of herself. I promised myself I would never let a man treat me that way.” She looked up, defiant but trembling.“It’s true, you know. That I’m a vow thief. The only vow I’ve ever respected was the vow of silence I took while I stole men from their relationships and broke them up. I can’t stop.”
I leaned forward slightly.“Lily, I want you to think about what you just said.”
She gave a short, nervous laugh.“Which part?”
“The part where you said you can’t stop.” I let the silence stretch.“Now I want you to say what you said again, but in reverse.”
Her brow furrowed.“Reverse?”
“Yes,” I said.“Instead of‘I can’t stop,’start with why you started. What came before the need to take what wasn’t yours?”
She hesitated.“You mean… because I saw my father break his vow to my mother? To me?”
I nodded.“That’s closer. When we grow up watching someone betray love, we often try to rewrite that story. You learned early that love is something taken, not given. So you become the one who takes, to make sure no one can take from you first.”
Lily blinked slowly, her voice thin.“So you think I’m just copying him?”
“I think you’re repeating him,” I nodded.“But unlike your father, you still feel the guilt afterward. That’s the part that makes you dangerous to yourself. He built a life out of infidelity. No guilt. No consequence. You built an identity out of it. Full of guilt and obvious consequences.”
She swallowed hard, the edge softening.“You talk like you know what that feels like.”
“I know what it looks like,” I said gently.“Children of betrayal often inherit the shape of it. They tell themselves they’re in control while playing the same game that hurt them.”
She let out a shaky breath.“And what does that make me?”
“It makes you someone who’s still trying to prove that vows mean something,” I said.“Even if you have to destroy them to find out.”
For the first time, Lily didn’t speak. She looked toward the window, then back at me, her voice quieter now.“He said I was a vow thief, but maybe I’m just trying to see if anyone keeps their word.”
“That’s an important difference,” I said.“A thief takes because she believes she’s been denied. A survivor takes because she’s still waiting for proof that promises exist.”
She nodded once, almost imperceptibly.“And if they don’t?”
“Then you learn to make your own,” I said.“Not out of revenge. Out of choice.”
Lily leaned back, her composure thinning.“That sounds hard.”
“It’s supposed to be,” I said.“You’ve already done the easy thing. Now let’s see what happens when you stop breaking what’s already broken.”That’s where we start,” I said.“Not with Matt. Not with Sarah. With what’s left of you.”
She looked at me for a long time, the performance gone, just quiet.
