Serving My Husband His Own Medicine

"Sit still, Hannah. You’re ruining the line of the fabric."

I was already dressed when Daniel walked into the bedroom, but his voice made me freeze, my hand was already reaching back to straighten the collar of my blouse. My fingers were cold. The shirt was a muddy brown...the kind of color that makes you part of the furniture. It had cheap plastic buttons that scratched my skin, and the neck was so high it felt like a hand resting against my throat. The skirt was a heavy polyester that didn't move when I moved. It was the outfit of a person who didn't want to be seen.

I bought it because it made him stop looking at me with that sharp, judgmental squint. I bought it because it was "safe."

I saw him in the mirror before I heard him. Daniel didn't make noise; he just appeared. He stood behind me, scanning my reflection like a spreadsheet for errors. His presence felt like a physical weight on my shoulders.

"You changed," he said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes," I said, keeping my voice level. I’d spent three years perfecting this tone...pleasant and obedient, but not so happy that it seemed fake.

He leaned in, his face was next to mine in the glass. He reached out and adjusted my collar by a fraction of an inch, his touch was purely mechanical. "This is much better," he muttered. "The blue one was too fitted. It showed too much of your shape, Hannah. You know how people are. They see a woman dressed like that and think she’s looking for something."

I nodded, with a stiff neck. "I thought so too."

That was a lie. I loved that blue dress. It made me feel like a woman with a life that belonged to me. But here, lies were the grease that kept the gears turning. He stepped back, his gaze was now shifted to my hair. I’d cut it all off last year. It used to be thick and wavy, but Daniel said it was a "distraction" and an invitation to other men. Now, it was chopped at my jawline. Blunt. No life.

"Good," he said. "A married woman should look respectable, not like she's advertising herself."

"Is breakfast ready?" he asked, grabbing his phone.

"It's on the table," I said. I had timed it perfectly.

In the kitchen, I watched him eat eggs fried hard and dry toast. He liked things predictable, claiming routine kept a home from falling into chaos. I stood by the counter until he frowned. "Sit down, Hannah. You’re making me nervous standing there."

I sat. I didn't eat. I just watched him scroll through his phone, his face was blank. He never got angry, not really. He just had a way of making the air in the room feel so thin you couldn't breathe.

"You're seeing your cousin today?" he asked.

"Yes. Grace called. She wanted me to see Samuel."

He looked at me with dark eyes. "That’s fine. But don't stay all day. I want dinner on the table by six."

"I'll be back by four," I promised.

Grace was like a sister to me. When she got pregnant three years ago and wouldn't name the father, I was the one who held her hand in the delivery room. Looking at Samuel always brought a sharp pang of jealousy. I wanted that. I wanted a family.

Daniel grabbed his briefcase. "I'll be late tonight. Don't wait up." At the door, he did one last scan of my baggy clothes and makeup-less face. "You look decent, Hannah. That’s all a man really wants. A wife with dignity."

The door clicked shut. I spent the next two hours scrubbing floors until my knees hurt, deleting texts from old friends Daniel called "noise." By the time I got to Grace's apartment, I was vibrating. Her place was messy and loud, smelling of grilled cheese. Grace looked at my brown blouse, her smile faltering with a flash of sadness before she masked it.

"You want coffee?" she asked.

"No, I'm fine." I picked up Samuel. He had deep, soulful eyes and a dimple that looked hauntingly familiar. I stayed for exactly sixty minutes, watching the clock. Grace talked about her job and the "guy" who wasn't stepping up but sent money.

"Is he ever going to see him?" I asked.

Grace froze, her back to me. "It's complicated, Han. He has a lot to lose. His career, his reputation... he’s a big deal."

"He's a coward," I said.

Grace’s laugh sounded hollow. "Yeah. Maybe. But he provides."

I left at 2:00 PM. When I got home, the house felt cold. I went to the bedroom for the laundry and saw it: Daniel’s phone. He never forgot it. He must have been in a rush for his meeting with Alexander Mercer. My heart thundered. I shouldn't touch it...Daniel preached about "boundaries"...but the screen lit up.

1 New Message.

The phone had no passcode. He always said he had nothing to hide. I opened the message from an unknown number: “Can’t wait. We’ll finally tell everyone soon. I’m tired of hiding us.”

My breath hitched. I scrolled up. There were hundreds of photos. A diamond ring in a velvet box with a caption from Daniel: “Soon. Just a little longer.”

I kept scrolling, my thumb shaking. There were pictures of Samuel at the park, Samuel blowing out birthday candles. Pictures of Daniel holding him with a look of pure love I had never seen. And then, the photos of the woman.

It was Grace.

They were in parks, restaurants, and beds that weren't ours. Grace was wearing red. Daniel was laughing. They looked like a real family. The dates went back years...before the marriage, during the marriage. Every time I helped Grace with the baby, Daniel was likely around the corner. Every time he was "late," he was with my cousin.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my legs were now turning to water. The high collar of my blouse felt like it was strangling me. I ripped the top button off, gasping for air. Three years. He had turned me into a ghost, keeping me in ugly clothes and short hair, while he lived a vibrant life with my own flesh and blood.

The front door opened.

I didn't move or hide the phone. I heard his steady footsteps. He walked into the bedroom, reaching for the device, then stopped. He saw the ripped button. He saw the screen. For a second, his mask slipped...guilt, maybe fear...but then he smoothed it over.

"Hannah," he said in that low, warning tone. "What are you doing with my property?"

I looked up, a cold needle of reality piercing the fog. "Who are you engaged to, Daniel? Is Samuel your son?"

He didn't flinch. He snatched the phone from my hand. "You're getting worked up over nothing. You're imagining things."

"I'm looking at a picture of you and Grace," I whispered. "Our life is a lie."

Daniel looked at me with a cold, terrifying pity. "You weren't supposed to find out like this," he said quietly. "But maybe it's for the best. You were always too small for the life I wanted anyway."

The world I had been t

rapped in didn't just crack. It shattered.