Chapter 7 - A Loving Husband

The moment the door shut behind him, I burst out laughing.

Oh my God. What a loser.

He had stood over the bed for a full minute. He whispered my name twice. He lifted my hand off the blanket and let it drop, and when it fell limp, he let out a breath of relief that I felt on my cheek. Then he tucked the blanket under my chin like a devoted husband and tiptoed out. He really thought I was asleep. He thought I could ever take him seriously again.

I pushed my face into the pillow to muffle the sound and shook until my ribs ached.

Then the laughter faded.

So this was what he did while I slept. I thought of every late meeting, every work trip, every Sunday he spent at the gym, and how I had swallowed each excuse with a smile. I stared at the ceiling. Why hadn’t he simply divorced me? Why go to the trouble of the soft voice, the kisses on my forehead, the tray at bedtime?

It was too late for that now. We would not divorce until I said so. We would not divorce until I had my revenge.

I threw off the blanket and swung my legs out of bed. That was when I heard voices in the hallway, coming toward my room.

“Are you sure you don’t know anything about your wife? The call said the noise was coming from this house.”

I dived back under the covers, arranged myself exactly as he had left me and shut my eyes.

“No, officer.” Ethan’s voice was high and strained. “My wife and I have been married for years. Technically that’s impossible. She’s sleeping. She hasn’t been feeling well.”

The door opened. Light from the hallway fell across my face, and I did not move a muscle.

“If she isn’t feeling well,” a deeper voice said, flat with disbelief, “why were you leaving her alone in the house?”

“I was just…”

“No buts. No justs.” A boot creaked on the floorboards. “Stay here and keep an eye on your wife.”

I turned over weakly, the way a sick woman would, and let out a small, tired sigh for effect.

“Look at that,” the second officer murmured. “She can barely move. We’re still making rounds tonight, sir. If we see you outside, it won’t go well for you.”

I pressed my lips together and bit the inside of my cheek so hard it hurt. Ethan was mumbling frightened little promises, the same man who told me I was overreacting every time I asked where he had been.

“Okay, officers. I’ll stay.”

The front door closed behind them. A moment later something crashed in the hallway, a vase or a shoe, something he had kicked.

“Who even called them? Which stupid, noisy neighbour was it? Jesus Christ!”

He stomped away, and a door slammed.

I opened my eyes and grinned.

Ten minutes later I heard the front door again, softer this time. Through a gap in the curtains I watched his car roll down the drive with its headlights off. So much for staying.

**Forty minutes earlier**

Cole called me.

I stared at the phone in disbelief. Our arrangement meant we never had to call each other. I sighed and picked up.

“Vanessa is coming to your house tonight. She wants to see Ethan. Be careful. He might do anything to find his way out.”

He hung up without explaining. I texted him, *What do you mean?*, and watched the word *Read* appear under it. No reply.

I sat there with the phone in my hand. Cole never wasted a call, and he never warned me about anything unless it was real. So when Ethan walked in with his best loving husband act, I did not fall for it, not for one second. I wanted to punch his face. I played it cool instead.

He sat on the edge of the bed and stroked my hair. “You look tired, love. Eat something and sleep. I’ll be right here.” His hand was warm and his smile was perfect. I had once mistaken that smile for love. His phone buzzed on the nightstand, and he flipped it face down before I could glance at it. I saw a single letter on the screen, V, and a small red heart.

He set a tray on my lap, with a plate of fruit and a tall glass of juice, and that was when something clicked.

He brought me that tray most nights. Most nights, afterwards, I felt dizzy and sleepy, and I woke up the next morning with no memory of the hours in between. The headaches. The mornings when the house smelled faintly of Vanessa’s perfume and he blamed it on the neighbour’s candles. It all fit together so neatly that I almost admired him.

I kept my face soft and my voice sleepy. “Could you get me some water, please? My throat is so dry.”

The moment he left the room, I grabbed my other phone and called the police, saying there was abuse going on in the house. I only wanted to scare his pants off a little. Then I poured half the juice down the sink in the en suite, so that when he came back, he would think I had drunk it.

**Back to the present**

*This is only the beginning of your nightmare, Ethan.*

In his hurry, he had not even taken the tray. I ate a strawberry. It was the best strawberry I had ever tasted. Then I held up my left hand so the ring caught the light, and took a photo with the glass in frame.

*What a loving husband I have. Y’all should get one like mine, or try to steal this one. Just kidding.*

I posted it on I*******m and tagged Vanessa. Within a minute, a small notification slid down the screen. *Vanessa has viewed your story.*

I always tagged her. But tonight I was sure it would hit differently.