Chapter2: The perfect husband

CHAPTER 2: The Perfect Husband

Victor picked a romantic comedy. He stretched out on the couch with his head in Claire's lap like he always did, and she ran her fingers through his damp hair while the opening credits played. Her movements were mechanical. Run fingers forward, slide them back. Forward. Back. Like a machine set on repeat.

"That feels so good," Victor murmured. He closed his eyes and sighed with contentment. "You always know how to make me relax after a long day."

A long day. Claire wondered which part of his day had been so exhausting. The gym? Or whatever he did at 6:47 in the morning that made his body "still remember" another woman?

"You seem tense today," Victor said, opening one eye to look up at her. "Everything okay?"

"Just tired." Claire kept her voice light. Easy. "I didn't sleep well last night."

"Poor baby." Victor reached up and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "You work too hard around the house. I keep telling you we should hire help."

Claire almost laughed. She did not work at all, and that was the problem. Before Victor, she was two semesters away from a PhD in architectural design. Her thesis on sustainable vertical housing won the national graduate prize. Three major firms offered her positions before she even graduated.

Then Victor proposed. He cried when he asked her, got down on one knee in the middle of their favorite park, and said he would spend his whole life making her happy. She believed him. She left her program, turned down every offer, and became Mrs. Claire, the perfect wife who cooked, cleaned, smiled, and waited.

Three years of waiting for a life that was never coming.

The movie played but Claire watched nothing. Her mind was back in that gym bag, back in those messages, back in the voice note where her husband said he could "barely stand to touch her."

When the movie ended, Victor yawned and stretched like a cat. "That was great. Same time next week?"

"Sure," Claire said.

He kissed her forehead as they walked upstairs. "Oh, I almost forgot. Grandpa Samuel's birthday dinner is Saturday. The whole family will be there."

"Do I have to go?" The question left Claire's mouth before she could stop it.

Victor's eyebrows rose. "Of course you have to go. You're my wife. Besides, I already told Grandma you're coming. She asked about you specifically."

Claire nodded. She could not refuse without raising suspicion, and right now, suspicion was the last thing she needed. She had to be invisible until she figured out her next move.

That night, Claire lay awake beside Victor while he slept peacefully. His breathing was slow and even, his face relaxed, his body turned toward her as if drawn by habit. One arm rested across her stomach.

She stared at the ceiling and thought about money. Without Victor, she had nothing. Her bank account held four hundred dollars. Victor handled every bill, every expense, and every purchase. He gave her a credit card linked to his account, and she never questioned the arrangement because she trusted him.

Stupid. She had been so unforgivably stupid.

And then there was her father. Eighty thousand dollars a month. Where would that money come from if she left? Her dad would be moved to a public facility. The care would drop. He could die.

Victor knew this. That message proved it. "Her father's situation makes it complicated." He knew she was trapped, and he used that trap to sleep peacefully beside her every night while spending his days in another woman's bed.

Claire did not sleep until four in the morning. When her alarm went off at seven, Victor was already gone. A note on the kitchen counter read: "Early meeting. Dinner tonight? Love you more than words, V."

She crumpled the note and tossed it in the trash.

Sandra arrived at nine with coffee and a face full of controlled fury. She walked through the front door, set the cups on the table, and grabbed Claire by the shoulders.

"Show me everything."

Claire pulled up the screenshots on her phone. Sandra went through them one by one, her jaw tightening with each swipe. When she reached the voice note transcript Claire had typed out, Sandra put the phone down and pressed both hands flat on the table.

"That man is going to pay for this," Sandra said quietly. "But we need to be smart about it. You can't just confront him."

"I know. My dad..."

"I know about your dad." Sandra took Claire's hands. "That's exactly why we need a strategy. If you blow up now, Victor controls everything. The money, the apartment, your father's care. He'll turn it around on you. I've seen men like him do it before."

Claire pulled her hands free and walked to the window. Outside, their neighborhood looked perfect. Trimmed hedges, luxury cars, women jogging with expensive headphones. Everything on the surface looked beautiful. Just like her marriage.

"I need a job," Claire said. "I need my own money before I can do anything."

"You were the most talented person in our entire graduate program," Sandra said firmly. "Professor Benjamin still talks about you. He told me last year that your thesis is required reading in his advanced course now."

"That was four years ago, Sandra."

"Talent doesn't expire." Sandra stood and walked to Claire. "Call him. Today. Tell him you want back in."

Claire hesitated. The architecture world felt like a lifetime ago. Like it belonged to a different woman. A woman who was bold and confident and believed she could build towers that touched the sky.

But that woman still lived inside her. Buried under three years of "Yes, Victor" and "Whatever you want, Victor" and "I'm happy just being your wife, Victor."

"I'll call him," Claire said.

Sandra left at noon. Claire spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning the house, cooking dinner, and playing the part of devoted wife. When Victor came home that evening, she greeted him at the door with a smile.

"Something smells amazing," Victor said, wrapping his arms around her waist. He buried his face in her neck. "You're incredible. You know that?"

She knew what she was. She was the woman he came home to after spending his day with someone else. The safe option. The obedient one.

"I got you something." Victor pulled a glossy shopping bag from behind his back with the flourish of a magician. Inside was a dress. Deep blue silk with delicate gold embroidery along the neckline. Expensive. Beautiful.

"For Saturday," he said, beaming. "You'll look stunning at Grandpa's dinner."

Claire touched the fabric. Soft as water. She wondered if Felicia had a matching dress somewhere in that secret apartment. She wondered if Victor bought them together, picking one for his wife and one for his lover in the same shopping trip.

"Thank you," she said. "It's lovely."

They ate dinner together. Victor talked about work, about a new building project his company was developing, about how his team was "finally getting the design right." Claire listened and nodded and refilled his wine glass and said nothing about the fact that she could design circles around every architect at his firm.

After dinner, Victor went to his home office to take a call. Claire heard his voice through the door, muffled but warm. She pressed her ear close.

"...can't wait to see you tomorrow, baby. Yeah, I told her it's a client dinner. She never questions it."

Claire stepped away from the door. Her chest burned but she kept her face blank. She walked calmly to the bedroom, pulled out her phone, and called Professor Benjamin.

He answered on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Professor Benjamin? This is Claire. Claire from your advanced design seminar, class of..."

"Claire!" The warmth in his voice was instant and genuine. "My God, where have you been? Three years of silence! Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Professor. I... I want to come back."

Silence. Then a long exhale. "You want to return to architecture?"

"Yes. I need a position. Research, design, anything. I'll start from the bottom if I have to."

"Claire, you were never the bottom." His voice was serious now. "Your work was exceptional. I have contacts at several firms who would hire you today without a second interview. When do you want to start?"

"As soon as possible."

"Give me two days. I'll set up meetings. And Claire?" He paused. "Welcome back."

She hung up. For the first time in months, something besides pain stirred in her chest. Something that felt almost like hope.

Then Victor's office door opened and he walked toward her with his phone tucked away and that easy smile on his face. "Ready for bed? I'm exhausted."

Claire looked at him. Looked at this man she had loved for five years, married for three, and apparently never knew at all.

"Ready," she said.

She climbed into bed next to him, and Victor wrapped himself around her like he always did. His arms held her close, his breath warm against her hair, his body comfortable and familiar.

"Saturday is going to be great," he mumbled sleepily. "The whole family together. Oh, and there might be a special guest."

Claire's ears perked up. "Who?"

"Uncle Raymond. Grandpa convinced him to come for once. Everyone's shocked." Victor laughed softly. "That man never shows up for anything. He thinks he's too good for the rest of us."

Claire had heard about Raymond but never met him. Victor rarely spoke of his uncle except with a tight jaw and bitter tone. She knew Raymond ran his own company, separate from the family business. She knew he was wealthy enough to make Victor jealous. And she knew Victor feared him.

"Should I be nervous?" Claire asked.

Victor pulled her closer. "About Raymond? No. Just stay close to me and don't say much to him. He's... difficult."

Claire closed her eyes. Saturday was three days away. Three more days of pretending.

She could manage that.

But as she lay there listening to Victor's breathing slow into sleep, her phone buzzed once on the nightstand. A text from an unknown number.

She picked it up carefully, angling the screen away from Victor.

The message read: [Does your husband still come home smelling like vanilla perfume? Or has he switched to roses now? Ask him about the baby, Claire. Ask him whose baby it is.]