I Waited 25 Years. He Laughed.

I Waited 25 Years. He Laughed.

The thing I spent twenty-five years protecting became a punchline before the night was over. “You cannot heal a wound the other person insists they didn’t make.” I was twenty-five the night I became someone’s wife. I grew up as an only child in a house where my parents monitored everything — curfews, friends, and how long I stayed on the phone. No dating. No sleepovers. If a phone call went past ten minutes, my dad would click the parallel line…