After My Husband Betrayed Me, I Disappeared

The moment I stepped into the house, I froze.

Maisie was lounging on the sofa already in a silky nightgown, eating chips like she owned the place.

“Didn’t you say you had a party tonight? Said you weren’t coming home?”

She gave me this shy little smile. “Oh, Annette, I forgot to mention. I had a fight with my boyfriend, so I went to the party to piss him off. Told him about it, but he didn’t care. Then, the second I got there, he showed up, dragged me out.”

Her fingers flicked at her collar, and the fabric slipped just enough to show the marks on her skin. Hickeys. Fresh. She gave me a sly look like it was some sort of prize.

“I didn’t expect him to be so jealous,” she said sweetly. “We ended up making out in the car. Three times.”

My nails bit into my palms so hard it hurt. But I kept my voice even. “When did you get a boyfriend? You never said a word.”

She just laughed lightly, tossing her hair. “Oh, about nine months ago after I came back from abroad and my brother introduce him to me.”

Nine months. The exact time she moved into this house. The exact time Rufus’s so-called friend asked him to “look after his sister.” What a joke. She’d latched onto him the first day.

I couldn’t stop my breathing from turning heavy. The rage sat right under my skin. And that’s when I felt it… Rufus’s hands, heavy on my shoulders.

“Sweetheart, you’ve had a rough day. Let me run you a bath. You need to rest.”

He guided me toward the bathroom like nothing was wrong.

I slipped inside, closed the door, and started undressing, the thought of soaking in the tub the only thing keeping me steady. Then I realized I’d forgotten clean clothes.

When I opened the door, the world stopped.

Not far away, Rufus was on top of Maisie. His hand ripped at her nightgown like it was paper, his mouth pressed against her skin while his grip locked on her waist.

She tilted her head back, letting out these soft little moans. “Easy… Annette’s still in the shower. Didn’t you get enough in the car earlier?”

He growled low, voice sharp, possessive. “Shut up! If you even think about letting another man touch you, you’ll regret it.”

She giggled, wicked and pleased, and then her eyes slid to me. Standing there, frozen.

“Alright,” she purred, “I won’t. I’m all yours. You’re so jealous, babe, hmm?”

That was enough. I grabbed my clothes, shut the bathroom door, and locked it.

The water was hot when I slid into the tub, but it didn’t burn as much as the memory replaying in my head.

Seven years ago. Our honeymoon on that island. I’d looked just once at a man with abs. Rufus lost his mind so he kept me locked inside the suite for a week.

When the bed broke and the supplies ran out, he pulled me close, “Annette, I’ve got everything you need. Don’t look at anyone else. Just promise me.”

I had promised him. Over and over.

And since then, I never dared to even glance at another man. But now, he was just as obsessed. Just not with me. With her.

I sank deeper into the water and let out a shaky breath.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, Maisie was gone. Only Rufus was sitting there, calm as if nothing had happened.

On the table, there was a plate of neatly sliced fruit and a steaming cup of ginger tea. The sight made my chest tighten.

He stood and handed me the cup, “I know your period’s close. This will help with the cramps.”

The heat from the cup seeped into my hands, but inside, I felt ice cold. How could he act so normal? Just minutes ago, he was tearing at Maisie’s clothes. Now here he was, pretending to be the perfect husband.

***

I didn’t sleep much that night. My mind kept circling back to the same question: how many faces does he have?

Sometime before dawn, I must’ve drifted off. A sudden shout yanked me awake.

“Annette!”

He jolted up, hands searching wildly in the dark until he found me. His chest heaved, his grip crushing me against him. “Don’t go. Please… don’t leave me.”

I froze in his arms. “What’s wrong with you?”

His eyes were red, his breath still uneven. “I dreamt you walked away from me. It was hell, Annette. I woke up and you were here. Thank God you’re here.”

I looked down, words heavy on my tongue. I wanted to tell him the dream would come true soon. But I stayed quiet.

Maybe that nightmare shook him, because the next morning, he didn’t let me out of his sight. He insisted on driving me to work himself, like he was afraid I’d disappear the moment he blinked.

The moment we stepped into Rufus’s office, I froze. His entire desk was covered in pictures of me. Different angles, different days, some I didn’t even know he’d taken.

I felt a chill run through me. Before I could say anything, I felt him behind me. His arms slid around my waist, his lips brushing my neck.

“Annette,” he whispered, voice low and smooth, “a lot of women throw themselves at me. But when I look at these, I remember who I belong to. You don’t have to worry. I’m all yours.”

I kept my eyes on the pictures, my lips pressed tight. I couldn’t bring myself to answer.

A knock came at the door. Mateo’s voice followed. “Boss, the meeting’s about to start.”

Rufus sighed, reluctant, and held me a moment longer before letting go. “Stay here, baby. Walk around, make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back soon.”

I nodded, though my chest was heavy. The last thing I wanted was to sit in his office surrounded by my own face. So I wandered. Floor after floor, pretending to look, pretending to care.

By noon, my phone buzzed. I picked it up quickly, my heart racing when I saw the caller ID.

“Ms. Annette Cooper,” the woman said politely, “your application for immigration has been approved. Please come to the consulate to collect your visa.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but a voice I knew too well cut in from behind me.

“Visa?”

My blood ran cold.