She kept her focus on the broken glass, resisting the urge to simply heave the pan at him. Fishmongers wife? The hell was that supposed to mean? Shaking her head, as she so often did when they got into any kind of conversation, she stood up and walked back past him. The shards were tossed in the trash much like she wished her existence could be. First came the insults, then came the anger, like clockwork; she waited.
But then his voice became soft. In all the years she had known him...he was actually trying to have a conversation with her. In all the years she had known him, he was completely sober. She kept her back to him, her palms bracing herself against the counter, dustpan forgotten in the trash bin. Tears pricked at her eyes without warning and Cersei took a long moment of silence to get them under control. He could come surprise her, ruin her day, break her glass, that she could handle, was used to handling. But for him to waltz in here unexpectedly, spouting some new plan for their future and requesting congeniality...
"Why now, Robert?" she asked, still not turning around. "I waited for years for you to just...talk to me. I stopped waiting a long time ago. I'm sorry you expected me to keep clinging to your arm and spreading my legs, but I really thought this would work. I really wanted my own happy ending the way it's supposed to be. The way every girl grows up believing it to be. And you..." She stopped, laughing bitterly. "Well, you know what you did."