He Let Me Go—Now He’ll Watch Me Belong to Another

The dirty water she’d just thrown drenched me from head to toe, seeping into my skin and the thin fabric of my gown. My hospital wristband still clung stubbornly to me—a reminder that I hadn’t even crossed the garden gate before humiliation found me again.

Bianca descended the marble staircase in a silk robe, her face painted with mock concern. “Oh my God, Selene, I’m so sorry!” she crooned sweetly. “I swear, I wasn’t aiming at you. I was just cleaning the balcony!”

She leaned closer until her perfume stung my nose, and in a low, venomous whisper, she hissed, “You got what you deserve. You’re filth, Selene. Utterly worthless. No wonder Rafael can’t stand the sight of you.”

Before I could form a reply, someone grabbed her arm and pulled her back. Rafael.

“What the hell are you doing near her?” he barked, brushing off her sleeve as if my presence had contaminated her. “You’ll ruin that robe if you stand too close to garbage. Keep your distance.”

Then his glare shifted to me, sharp and cold. “Why are you here looking like that? You think this is how a wife presents herself? You look like something that crawled out of a drain.”

I straightened as much as I could, my voice trembling. “It—it wasn’t me. Bianca threw—”

He cut me off, his voice rising. “So now it’s Bianca’s fault? Are you trying to get sympathy again? You never stop, do you? You already took away my child, and now you’re pretending to be the victim again? What do you even contribute to this household?”

His words burned deeper than any scar could.

He seized my wrist, his grip bruising, and dragged me toward the pool. “Since you’re already soaked,” he spat, “why don’t you clean the pool while you’re at it? I have guests coming. I don’t want them smelling your misery in my home.”

Then, without hesitation, he shoved me into the cold water.

I gasped, the shock knocking the breath from my lungs.

“I want dinner ready when they arrive,” Rafael ordered. “You’ll cook. You’ll serve. Understood?”

Bianca sauntered closer, her voice dripping with feigned worry. “Rafael, she’s barely recovered. Let me do it instead.”

He shot her a glare. “No. You stay with me. Let her prove she’s useful. She wanted to be my wife—then let her act like one.”

The icy water bit at my skin, each movement sending pain lancing through the half-healed burns. My clothes weighed me down, my scar tugging tight as I struggled to stay upright.

And just like that, the memories came flooding back.

Seven years earlier. The crash. The storm. Hannah’s scream echoing through the rain.

My twin sister, Hannah. The golden one. The one everyone adored—especially Rafael. They were the picture-perfect couple in college, inseparable, envied. But behind the smiles, I’d seen the cracks forming long before anyone else did.

That night, she’d been furious—wild with betrayal. I could still see her face as she snatched my car keys off the counter, her voice shaking with rage. She’d discovered Rafael’s affair—maybe even with Bianca—and she was determined to confront him.

“Stay here, Hannah. Please,” I had begged. “Don’t drive like this. Let’s talk.”

But she ignored me. I ran after her, jumping into the passenger seat as the storm raged. “Slow down!” I shouted, but she didn’t listen. The rain blurred everything, the wipers useless against the torrent.

Then came the blinding headlights. The screech of tires. The deafening crash.

When I woke up, the world smelled of metal and blood—and Hannah was gone. They said she died instantly.

Rafael never asked for details. Never asked what happened. To him, it was simple: I survived, and she didn’t. And that alone was enough reason to hate me.

Six months later, he proposed. I was too broken to question it. I thought maybe grief had softened him—that somehow, in losing her, he had found something in me worth loving.

But I was wrong.

The truth revealed itself quickly. The mistresses. The humiliation. He’d bring them home, flaunting them openly, ordering me to serve them drinks while they laughed in my face. Sometimes, he’d drag me into the room just to whisper Hannah’s name while he held another woman. Like a punishment. Like a ritual to remind me that I would never replace her.

Then came Bianca. My confidante. The last person I trusted. Until she turned into the sharpest weapon he ever used against me.

I didn’t know how long I floated in that pool, half-conscious and trembling. When I tried to climb out, my limbs gave out, and water filled my throat. I clawed weakly at the edge. “Help…”

From the balcony above, Rafael looked down, boredom in his eyes. “Quit the act. You can swim, Selene. Stop trying to get attention.”

And then he walked away.

The next thing I remembered was waking up by the pool’s edge, coughing and freezing. The garden lights were on now, glowing warmly over the laughter spilling from the terrace. The party had begun.

Through the haze, I saw them—Rafael and his friends, glasses raised, amusement flickering in their eyes as they talked.

“You really know how to keep her in line,” one of them laughed. “Aren’t you worried she’ll just leave you one day?”

Rafael smirked, swirling the liquor in his glass. “She won’t. That woman owes me. She killed Hannah. This is what she deserves. If she tries to leave, I’ll crush her. I bet you a million she won’t even last a day without crawling back.”

Their laughter blended with the music, each sound cutting through me like a blade.

But they were wrong.

Because in my pocket, my phone vibrated. A single message from my lawyer glowed on the cracked screen:

Your father confirmed. He’ll pick you up in five days. Your mother’s transfer is arranged. Everything is ready.

My chest tightened. I pressed the phone against my heart, gripping it like a lifeline.

Five more days. Just five.

Then I’d be gone.

Then I’d finally be free.