1 Gavin and his childhood best friend, Vicky, had always been at each other's throats, neither ever willing to give an inch. On our wedding day, determined to ruin Gavin's life, she paid a group of men to assault me on my way to the venue. Then, she arranged for the video of my torment to be played on the giant screens during the reception. In the hospital room, Gavin’s eyes were bloodshot with rage. He clenched his fists, preparing to storm out of the room. "She couldn't beat me, so she took it out on you! Grace, wait for me here. I’m going to rip her skin off today!" But thirty minutes after he left, his iPad on the bedside table lit up, syncing his incoming text messages. The top pinned contact was Vicky. The screen filled with a series of sickening messages that instantly made my throat go dry. Vicky: Using the excuse of settling scores just to pin me against the wall and kiss me? Is that how you stand up for your poor little girlfriend? Vicky: But the way your eyes were red, like you wanted to eat me alive... it was completely addictive. Gavin: Grace is innocent. She’s sacrificed so much for me. I really love her, Vicky. We can’t keep making these mistakes. Vicky: Fine. Then I’m going to spend the night at my boyfriend's place. Gavin: Don't you dare. Go to our usual spot and wait for me. Gavin: As for Grace, I’ll take care of her for the rest of her life. I don't want to hurt her, but I... I can't seem to kick my addiction to you. The screen went black. I gripped the edge of my blanket, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip until I tasted copper. The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. I quickly shoved the iPad back under my pillow, picked up my phone, and dialed 911. The door to the room swung open. Gavin walked in, carrying a plastic takeout container. The moment his eyes landed on the numbers on my screen, he lunged forward, snatching the phone from my hands and tapping the red end-call button. "Grace, what are you doing? You can't call the police!" My voice was ice. "Give me my phone. I want Vicky in prison." "Have you even thought this through?" Gavin wrapped his arms tightly around me, holding me against his chest. "Once a case is opened, every detail of what happened to you will be put on public record. Those videos will be played in court over and over as evidence!" "The media will find out. The public will find out. Everyone will look at you with pity and disgust! I can't let you go through that kind of trauma!" "But she hired men to assault me!" I pushed him away with all my strength. "I did nothing wrong. Why should I be the one hiding in the dark? I want her to pay!" Gavin dropped to his knees by the bedside, grasping my wrists. "Leave it to me, please. I’ve already punished her severely." "I promise you, I will make her life a living hell. Just trust me, okay?" I stared at his desperate face, suddenly feeling like I was looking at a complete stranger. During our junior year of college, on my birthday, Vicky had intentionally poured a full glass of red wine down the front of my white dress. Gavin had stood up instantly, flipping the heavy wooden table. Plates and glasses shattered across the restaurant floor. "Vicky, are you out of your mind?" he had screamed. When Vicky claimed it was an accident, Gavin grabbed a bottle of beer from the neighboring table and poured it directly over her head. "My hand slipped too. Get the hell out of here." He had smashed the empty bottle on the floor. From that day on, I truly believed he would always protect me. "Did you actually fight her?" I asked quietly. Gavin buried his face in the crook of my neck, his shoulders trembling as he avoided the question. "Grace, as long as I’m alive, I will never let anyone hurt you again. Let’s not involve the police. Let me handle this." I looked down, about to speak, when a scent drifted into my nose. It was a faint, crisp aroma of lemon sea salt. Vicky only wore one brand of perfume, and that was her signature scent. My eyes drifted down to his collar. Tucked beneath his slightly open shirt was a dark, fresh red mark. "What's that on your neck?" Gavin’s hand flew to his throat. His entire body went rigid. He quickly pulled his collar up to cover the mark. "A scratch from when I was dealing with Vicky earlier." "A scratch? Or a hickey?" Gavin’s expression turned defensive and strained. "Grace, what are you implying? You’re just too stressed right now. You're letting your imagination run wild." He stood up, walking over to the table to open the plastic container. "I went across town to get you that hot chicken broth you love. You haven't eaten all day. Have some warm soup first." He blew on a spoonful of broth and held it to my lips. The scent of lemon sea salt washed over me again. I shoved his hand away. The soup spilled across the sheets as I leaned over the edge of the bed, dry-heaving violently. Gavin reached out to pat my back, but I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" "Okay, okay, I won't touch you." Gavin backed away, raising his hands in retreat. "Take it easy, honey. I’ll go get the doctor to check on you." He turned and practically fled from the room. For a moment, I had actually believed he was protecting me from public scrutiny. But the mark on his neck and the text messages on the iPad made the truth sickeningly clear. He didn't want me to call the police because he wanted to protect Vicky. For the next two weeks, Gavin never left my side. He washed my face, fed me my meals, and stayed awake through the night. Whenever I tossed and turned in my sleep, he would instantly sit up, hold my hand, and whisper, "Don't be scared, honey. I'm right here." During her morning rounds, the nurse smiled at me. "Your husband is so incredibly devoted. Every time I check on you during my night shifts, he hasn't closed his eyes once." I looked at Gavin. "Yes, he's always been this good to me." I remembered the morning we got our marriage license. Gavin had just put on his suit when Vicky called, claiming her stomach was cramping so badly she was rolling on the floor, begging him to drive her to the emergency room. Gavin had barked into the phone, "If you're sick, dial 911! I'm getting married today. I wouldn't come to you even if the sky collapsed!" He had blocked her number right in front of me, taken my hand, and walked out the door. I used to think a man like that would love me forever. "Gavin, I want to call the police," I said, bringing it up once more. The spoon in Gavin’s hand paused. "Why are you bringing this up again?" He sat on the edge of my bed. "I told you, I've already dealt with her." "I can't let it go." Gavin raised his hand and suddenly slapped himself hard across the face. The sound was deafening in the quiet room. Then, he slapped himself again on the other cheek. "It’s all my fault!" He continued to strike his own face, left and right. "I failed to protect you! I'm useless!" Bright red marks quickly bloomed across his cheeks. "Grace, do you really want to rip open your wounds and show them to the entire world? Hit me instead. Use me to get your anger out. Just don't call the police, please. I am begging you." I pulled my hands back, staying silent. Gavin sank to the floor, covering his face as he sobbed. At eight that evening, Gavin’s phone rang. "It's the office. I need to take this outside," he said, stepping out of the room. As soon as the door clicked shut, I sat up and pulled his backup phone from the bedside drawer. I unlocked it and opened his ride-sharing app history from our wedding day. That morning, Gavin had told me there was an emergency with the venue decorations and that he had to head over early, instructing me to take a different car. But the ride history showed his pickup from our apartment complex, and his destination wasn't the hotel. It was Vicky’s apartment. Next, I opened his synced messages with Vicky. Vicky: You have to keep Grace quiet. Do not let her call the cops under any circumstances! Vicky: Don't forget, half the cash used to pay off those thugs came from your credit card. If she goes to the police, you're going down as an accomplice! Gavin: I'm staying by her side. She trusts me completely. She won't call the police. Vicky: Then when are you coming over to see me? Gavin: As soon as she falls asleep. My chest heaved, my fingers trembling so badly I could barely hold the device. He had abandoned me in my wedding dress to go to Vicky’s bed. He was the one who had funded my assault. I carefully placed the phone back into the drawer. The door opened, and Gavin walked back in. "Honey, why aren't you sleeping yet?" "I was just about to. If work is busy, you don't have to stay here with me." "That's out of the question. I’ve already taken leave. Once you're discharged, I'll take you on a nice trip to help you clear your head." Gavin stroked my hair gently. "Okay. Let’s get discharged tomorrow then." I just wanted to get away from him. When we returned to our apartment the next day, all the red wedding decorations had been stripped from the walls, replaced with neutral cream curtains and carpets. Gavin poured me a glass of warm water, then tapped on his phone. My phone buzzed with a bank notification. He had transferred two thousand dollars into my account. "Grace, take this money. Go buy yourself some new clothes or jewelry. From now on, I’ll hand over my entire paycheck to you every month." Gavin sat down beside me. "Keep it. I don't need it." I went to transfer the money back, but he stopped me. "Please keep it. I just want to make things up to you." Just then, a sharp knock sounded at the door. Gavin’s brow furrowed. He stood up and went to open it. Vicky was standing in the hallway, wearing a tight, bright red slip dress. "Well, look at that. I heard Grace was finally out of the hospital, so I thought I’d drop by and pay my respects." Vicky craned her neck, trying to peer into the living room. Gavin blocked her view, his face turning dark. "What are you doing here? Get the hell out!" "Why are you standing in the doorway, Gavin?" Vicky let out a soft laugh. "Scared she'll lose her mind if she sees me?" Gavin grabbed Vicky’s wrist, dragging her forcefully away from the door, before slamming it shut behind them. They were accomplices, yet they were putting on this elaborate show of hatred in front of me. I wanted to see how they acted when they thought I wasn't looking. I stood up silently, walked to the door, and pressed my eye against the peephole. The motion-sensor lights in the hallway were bright. Vicky threw Gavin’s hand off her, shoving her finger hard against his chest. "What's with the attitude, Gavin?" Vicky whispered, her voice sharp. "Are you actually feeling guilty now that you've seen her pathetic state?" Gavin grabbed her finger, pulling it away. "I told you to leave her alone!" Vicky let out a cold sneer. "Don't forget, you were the one who provided the escape money for those guys! If she goes to the police and they catch them, we both go to prison!" "In fact, maybe I should just walk in right now and tell her exactly where you were on our wedding morning..." Vicky reached for the doorknob. "Shut up!" Gavin grabbed her arm, pulling her back and pinning her violently against the white wall of the corridor. He leaned down, pressing his lips hard against hers. Vicky pushed weakly against his chest once or twice, then wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Right outside my door, they lose themselves in a passionate, desperate embrace. Gavin’s hand slipped beneath the hem of her red dress. I let go of the doorknob and took two steps back. I had no desire to watch this garbage anymore. I sat down, took out my phone, and dialed my grandmother’s number. "Grandma? Are you home?" "Yes, sweetie. What's wrong? Why are you calling this late?" her warm voice drifted through the line. "I want to come home." "Is Gavin coming with you?" "No, just me. I'm resigning from my job here, Grandma. I want to move back and live with you permanently." "Of course, honey. I'll get your room ready for you." After hanging up, I booked an intercity bus ticket for three days later. For the next three days, I never mentioned Vicky, and I never brought up the police. Every morning, I got up early to cook Gavin breakfast, and every evening, I ironed his shirts and hung them neatly in the closet. Gavin smiled at me over dinner. "Honey, I'm so glad you've finally moved past it. Let’s just focus on our life together and leave the past behind us." I nodded slowly. "Eat your dinner before it gets cold." On my final night, I sat on the living room sofa. My phone screen lit up with a video message from an unknown number. I opened the file. The video was taken in a hotel room. Gavin was lying on the bed with his eyes closed. "Gavin, who makes you feel better? Me, or Grace?" Vicky’s voice came from behind the camera. Without opening his eyes, Gavin rolled over and pulled her into his arms. "Why bring her up now? She's like a log in bed, completely lifeless. She doesn't have half your fire. Stop talking and come here." Vicky giggled at the lens before placing the phone face-down on the nightstand. The screen went dark, but the muffled, explicit sounds continued to play. A text message followed immediately from the same number. See that, Grace? Your husband already thinks of you as damaged goods. He’s in my bed every single day. He’s coming over tonight, too. Want to come watch? I stared at the screen, my nails digging into the palms of my hands. The kitchen faucet turned off. Gavin wiped his hands on a towel and walked out. He glanced at his phone, then walked into the bedroom to grab his coat. "Grace, a major bug just crashed the company servers. The manager wants me in the office immediately. Go to sleep early, don't wait up for me." "Going out this late?" I asked from the sofa. "Yeah, that’s just how the tech industry is." Gavin walked to the door, stepping into his shoes. He walked back to the sofa, leaned down, and kissed my forehead. "Be a good girl and wait for me to come home." The lock clicked shut. As his footsteps faded down the hall, I didn't hesitate. I packed my suitcase, grabbed my coat, and headed straight to the bus station. At eleven-thirty that night, Gavin unlocked the front door, carrying a bag of takeout. The apartment was pitch black. "Grace, I'm home! I brought you those grilled skewers you like..." Gavin flicked the light switch. The living room was empty. His smile faltered. He walked quickly into the bedroom. "Grace?" The bed was empty, the sheets folded neatly. He pulled open the sliding closet doors. My side of the closet was completely bare. He ran into the bathroom. Half of the toiletries on the counter were gone. He rushed back to the living room, and his eyes landed on the coffee table. Sitting there was his promise ring, alongside the credit card he had given me. Owen pulled out his phone, his hands shaking as he dialed my number. The cold, robotic voice of the operator filled the quiet apartment. We're sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service. Please check the number and dial again. Gavin hung up and redialed. We're sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service...
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