LOGINPOV: Hazel
“Is he actually shouting?” I whispered to the empty bedroom, my thumb hovering over the replay button on my phone.
The video was grainy, but the audio was sharp enough to cut. Julian was laughing. It was a loud, boisterous sound that I didn't recognize. In the blurry footage, he raised a glass high, his face flushed with a warmth he never showed me.
“Welcome home, Penelope!” he yelled.
I leaned back against the headboard, feeling a cold ache in my chest. I remembered Julian from our high school days as the untouchable genius. He was always the guy who looked straight ahead, ignoring the girls who tried to get his attention or offer him water after a race. He was composed. He was icy.
When we got married, that ice didn't melt. He was polite, sure. He was perfectly regulated. He never lost his temper, but he never found his joy either. I used to wonder if his blood was even warm. When our hands brushed, he felt like a statue.
Yet, there he was on my screen, calling a girl by a nickname and smiling like his life depended on it. He possessed passion. He possessed heat. He just didn't have any of it for me. To him, I was just the wife who stayed in the house, a shadow in his peripheral vision.
“Ma’am, are you awake? Should we start the day?” Chloe’s voice drifted through the door.
I jumped, nearly dropping the phone. My morning routine was a clockwork operation. If I wasn't out of bed by a certain time, Chloe started to worry. She knew my leg gave me trouble, and she was always terrified I’d fallen or locked up.
“I’m up,” I called out. My voice sounded thin and brittle. “I’ll be right there.”
I forced myself to stand, ignoring the familiar pull in my limb. Breakfast was waiting on the table - steamed buns that looked perfect and tasted like cardboard in my mouth. I managed three bites before pushing the plate away.
“What should I prepare for lunch and dinner?” Chloe asked as she set a glass of milk in front of me.
“Anything is fine, just make - ” I stopped myself. I had been about to say ‘make whatever Julian likes.’ That was my default setting. I lived my life to cater to his palate, his schedule, his silence. “Actually, just make whatever you want, Chloe.”
Chloe hesitated, her eyes soft with pity. “Sir mentioned he won’t be back for meals today. He has an event to attend.”
I nodded slowly. “I know.”
I didn't need a calendar to tell me where he was. Penelope had already posted her schedule on social media. She had a colorful chart showing which ‘old friend’ was taking her to dinner every night this week. She called them her doting big brothers. I knew which brother was at the top of that list tonight.
I spent the next several hours lost in books. I studied French verbs and flipped through art theory texts until the words blurred. It was the only way to kill the clock. If I didn't stay busy, the silence of the apartment would swallow me whole. I had spent years waiting for a man to come home, sitting by the window like a loyal dog.
Waiting was a slow poison. But today, the antidote was finally in my hands.
I opened my laptop and navigated to the university portal. My offer letter was sitting there, a digital golden ticket. I clicked the confirmation link and authorized the payment for the seat deposit. When the bank notification flashed on my phone, confirming the funds had been sent, I let out a breath I felt like I’d been holding for three years.
I was going back to school. I was leaving this cage.
As evening approached, I went to the closet and picked out a simple coat. I moved carefully, packing a small bag with my essentials.
Chloe caught me near the front door. Her eyes widened. “Ma’am? You’re going out?”
It was a rare sight. Without Julian to lean on, I rarely braved the world outside.
“A friend from college is performing nearby,” I lied, keeping my voice steady. “She invited me to grab a drink and catch up.”
The truth was less glamorous. I was heading to a hotel right next to the testing center. My IELTS exam was scheduled for tomorrow morning. I’d taken it months ago, but my score wasn't high enough for the elite program I wanted. I’d applied anyway, thinking I’d be rejected. When the acceptance came, it felt like a sign. I just needed to boost my English score one last time to satisfy the final condition.
“Let me come with you,” Chloe said, reaching for her sweater. “Just in case your leg gets tired.”
“No need. It’s just a girls' night. It would be awkward to have you there,” I said. I tried to look bored rather than nervous.
“I should at least call Sir and let him know,” Chloe insisted, reaching for the house phone.
“Don't bother him,” I snapped, then softened my tone. “Let him enjoy his night out. I’ll call him myself once I’m settled. He can pick me up later.”
It was another lie. I had no intention of calling him.
I grabbed my purse and slipped out before she could argue. The apartment was single-level and spacious, designed specifically so I wouldn't have to navigate stairs. Julian had been thoughtful in that one practical way, even if he was emotionally absent.
The elevator ride felt like it took a decade. When the doors opened and I stepped into the evening sunlight, I felt exposed. I immediately ducked my head, pulling my hat low over my eyes and tugging my collar up.
Before the accident, I loved the stage. I loved the lights and the eyes of the crowd. I was radiant. But the Hazel who limped didn't have that courage anymore. I felt like a broken thing, a mistake that people shouldn't have to look at. I moved quickly toward the curb, keeping my head down and my heart racing.
A black car pulled up, and the driver rolled down the window.
“Heading to the Transcorp, miss?” he asked.
I nodded and climbed into the back seat, leaning my head against the cool glass.
“Yes, and please hurry,” I said.
POV : Hazel"Is that actually the wife, or did you just pick up a stray at the gate?" Michael’s voice boomed through the heavy oak doors of the private lounge.The roar of laughter that followed hit me like a physical blow. I stood frozen in the doorway, my fingers still gripping the cold brass handle. Inside, the room was a blur of expensive cologne, amber liquor, and people who moved with a confidence I never possessed.Right in the center of the noise sat Julian. He wasn't laughing, but he wasn't stopping them either. He just sat there, nursing a drink, while Penelope leaned so close to him that her silk dress brushed his suit jacket. She looked like she belonged there. I looked like a mistake.Michael turned around, his face flushed from the booze and the joke. "Hey, Juli, is it really true that she - "His words died in his throat. His eyes locked onto mine, and the grin slid off his face so fast it was
POV :Hazel“You should just stay in the house if I am not there to look after you,” Julian told me this morning.He said it like he was protecting me. He made it sound like the world was a jagged, dangerous place and I was too fragile to navigate it alone. I used to believe him. I used to think his control was just a form of deep affection.But as I sat in the back of the taxi, watching the city lights blur past the window, I knew the truth. I did not fear the world. I feared being seen with him. I hated the way people looked at us when we walked together. I could see the question in their eyes before they even opened their mouths. They wondered how a man like Julian, so polished and perfect, ended up with a wife who could not even walk straight.“Driver, please stop here,” I said suddenly.The car jerked to a halt. My heart skipped a beat. I had spotted Julian’s black sedan parked right at the curb in front of a high-
POV: Hazel“Is he actually shouting?” I whispered to the empty bedroom, my thumb hovering over the replay button on my phone.The video was grainy, but the audio was sharp enough to cut. Julian was laughing. It was a loud, boisterous sound that I didn't recognize. In the blurry footage, he raised a glass high, his face flushed with a warmth he never showed me.“Welcome home, Penelope!” he yelled.I leaned back against the headboard, feeling a cold ache in my chest. I remembered Julian from our high school days as the untouchable genius. He was always the guy who looked straight ahead, ignoring the girls who tried to get his attention or offer him water after a race. He was composed. He was icy.When we got married, that ice didn't melt. He was polite, sure. He was perfectly regulated. He never lost his temper, but he never found his joy either. I used to wonder if his blood was even warm. When our hands b
POV: Hazel"I'm heading out, and I have a dinner meeting later tonight," Julian said to someone in the hallway. "Let Mrs. Lucy know she shouldn't wait for me. She needs her sleep."I kept my eyes squeezed shut, listening to the heavy thud of his footsteps as he walked back into our bedroom. I didn't move. I didn't breathe. I stayed tucked under the duvet, my face pressed into a pillow that was still damp from the tears I’d shed in the dark. My skin felt tight and itchy from the salt, but I didn't dare wipe it away. I couldn't let him see I was awake.Usually, our mornings followed a strict routine. I would be up before him, selecting his silk tie and matching his cufflinks to his suit. I’d have his clothes laid out on the bench, perfectly pressed, so he never had to spend a single second thinking about his appearance. It was my way of being useful. It was how I showed him I cared, even if he never said it back.T
POV: Hazel“You’re finally home,” I whispered to the empty bedroom.The clock on the wall ticked past three in the morning. Outside, the city was dead, but inside these walls, the silence felt like a physical weight. Then, the sound of the shower started. Julian was back. He didn’t come to the bed first. He didn’t check if I was awake. He went straight to the water to wash the night off his skin.I pushed myself up, my hands trembling against the silk sheets. My legs felt heavy, a constant reminder of everything I had lost. I reached for my crutches, the metal cold against my palms, and stood up. I needed to talk to him. I needed to see if there was anything left of us before the sun came up on our fifth anniversary.I hovered outside the bathroom door. The steam carried the scent of his expensive soap, something woody and clean. I raised my hand to knock, but I stopped when I heard it.It wasn't just the water hitting







