Trapped in a Marriage I Thought Was Love

"You just want to doll yourself up like a peacock and seduce other men, don’t you?" she sneered, her eyes burning with malice.

I had no patience for her absurdity. Without a word, I grabbed my bag and moved to pass her.

She latched onto my arm, her grip like iron. "You’re not leaving until you explain yourself!"

I exhaled sharply, my patience wearing thin. "Didn’t I just tell you? I’m going to visit him in detention. What, do you not understand human speech, or do you want your son to rot in there forever?"

Her fingers loosened instantly. Red marks flared against my pale skin, stark reminders of her grasp.

"Then hurry up and go," she finally muttered, her tone uncharacteristically subdued.

I didn’t waste another second on her. Without so much as a backward glance, I walked out the door.

***

William sat slumped in a wrinkled T-shirt, his hair a tangled mess, stubble darkening his face, looking more like a drifter than the man I once knew. At the sight of me, he shot up, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.

"Alexis, you're finally here! You have to save me!" His eyes brimmed with desperation.

I stood motionless, taking in his disheveled state. Scratches marred his neck, stark against his pale skin. My chest tightened, torn between heartbreak and bitter disappointment. My eyes burned, but no tears fell.

Ever since the accident, he had drowned himself at work, rarely coming home before ten. Our intimacy had faded into something so scarce I could count the moments on one hand. And when I reached for him, he always had an excuse: too tired, too busy. And I had believed him like a fool.

Sensing my turmoil, his voice trembled. "Alexis, I’m sorry… I was drunk. It was a mistake. I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please, forgive me."

A pause. Then, hesitantly, "I was supposed to be in the neighboring city for a deal, but the client came here instead, so..."

A pathetic lie. He had the audacity to say it with a straight face. Exhaustion settled deep in my bones. I cut him off, my voice cold. "Let's get a divorce."

Silence stretched between us. Then, after what felt like forever, he finally spoke. "Alexis, we can talk about that later. Right now, I don’t want to go to prison. Just help me get out of here."

"William, did you or did you not rape that woman? Tell me, how exactly am I supposed to help you? I barely know anyone in this city. Who do you expect me to turn to?"

He lowered his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "That woman is Eris Jones. If you can talk to her and convince her to drop the charges, that would be enough."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "Which Eris? You think I can just ask someone to drop charges and they’ll do it?" My eyes bore into him, unwavering.

“Hendrick Wilson’s wife. She works as a hostess at that club."

Hendrick… The man I had hit with my car.

My breath hitched and a dull pounding echoed in my skull.

Guilt swelled, heavy and suffocating. Pressing my hands against my face, I forced myself to steady my breathing before speaking again, my voice even and controlled. "Fine. I’ll go find her. If she agrees to drop the charges, we get a divorce."

I held his gaze, waiting. When he finally nodded, I turned on my heel, grabbed my bag and walked out without a backward glance.

***

I knocked on Eris’s door. When it creaked open, she stood there—hair disheveled, eyes rimmed with red, her cheeks blotchy and swollen as though she had been crying for hours.

The moment her gaze landed on me, she moved to slam the door shut.

I quickly spoke. "I’m sorry. Can we talk?"

Her voice was sharp, trembling with anger. "Talk? About what? Should we discuss how you ran over my husband? Or how your husband…"

Her words faltered as she clutched her face, fresh sobs wracking her frame.

I stepped inside before she could stop me, closing the door behind me. "I’m sorry," I said again, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You’ve said that so many times already," she spat, her tone laced with bitterness. "And I know… I know my husband’s death was an accident. But your husband…."

"I’m sorry," I repeated, hesitating before forcing the words out. "It’s just… William is only thirty. If he goes to prison, his whole life will be ruined. Could you… could you drop the charges?"

Her fury ignited instantly. "Drop the charges? Do you have any idea what your husband did to me? The kind of hell I endured? A whole night. A whole damn night! Does he do that to you, too? Do you not feel even a shred of disgust?"