My younger brother has always been called "girly." He’s twenty-four years old, and he still can’t open a tight water bottle. He just hands it to me with big, pathetic eyes. He sprays designer cologne before he leaves the house, his nails are always immaculately painted with clear gloss, and he carries lip balm and a compact mirror in his bag. My husband, Julian, despised him. Every time Julian hit me, he would always mock my brother: "Don't even think about running to your family for backup, Clara." "What is that little fairy going to do if he shows up? Cry and stick rhinestones on my fingernails?" Until the night I finally broke down after a beating and secretly called my brother. "Oliver... I want to come home." Half an hour later, my front door was kicked open. My brother rushed in, sobbing, his eyeliner completely smudged. His legs were physically shaking, but he still stepped in front of me, holding his phone up like a shield. Julian raised his hand to slap him. Oliver squeezed his eyes shut in terror and screamed at the top of his lungs: "That's him! Babe, hit him!" The next second, the man who had followed my brother into the apartment stepped through the doorway. He grabbed Julian’s wrist, twisted it violently behind his back, and slammed him hard against the wall. Chapter 1 Since the day he was born, my brother was considered the useless one in the family. He was the weakest, the most easily scared, the one who always needed to be taken care of. When we were kids, if a moth flew into the house, he would scream and jump onto the sofa. Once, my dad told him to take out the trash. He pinched his nose, walked halfway down the driveway, and came running back crying: "There's a cockroach looking at me by the trash can!" My mom yelled at him for being pathetic. He argued back, his eyes red: "It’s black, and it has wings!" He didn't get much better when he grew up. After college, he didn't try to get a corporate job or go into government work. He went to cosmetology school and learned how to do nails, lash extensions, and makeup. The extended family constantly gossiped behind his back. "A grown man doing makeup and nails? He looks like a freak." Oliver heard them once and hid in the bathroom, crying for fifteen minutes. When he came out, his eyes were still red, but he muttered quietly: "I make an honest living with my own hands. I don't steal from anyone." I had protected him my entire life. But even I had to admit, he didn't exactly fit the mold of a tough, protective younger brother. Especially not after I married Julian. Julian ran a successful construction and remodeling company. He was thirty-two, incredibly handsome, and very charismatic. When he was courting me, he was unbelievably gentle. My mom said, "He's a solid guy. He has his own business, and he treats you like a queen." I thought so, too. In our first month of marriage, he told me he didn't like it when I wore spaghetti strap dresses. "My wife is too beautiful. I don't like other guys looking at you." In the second month, he told me to quit my job and become a full-time housewife. He said he made more than enough to support us both. "I hate seeing you stressed out by your boss. Just stay home. If you want to buy something, just tell me and I'll transfer the money." I hesitated. He looked hurt. "Do you not trust me?" I hated arguing, so I compromised. After I quit, my world rapidly shrank. If I went to visit my parents for more than three hours, he would text me, demanding to know where I was. "Are you done gossiping yet?" "You have your own family now. Stop running back to your parents' house every day." The more I tried to explain, the more volatile he became. The first time he hit me was because Oliver came over to drop off a birthday cake for me. The icing on the cake said: To my sister, forever 18. Julian kept a tight lid on his temper while Oliver was there. The second Oliver left, Julian picked up the cake and smashed it into the trash can. "Your brother is disgusting. A grown man clinging to his older sister like a needy little kid." I defended him. "He's my brother." Julian slapped me across the face. My ear rang loudly. He even looked shocked by his own action. The next second, he dropped to his knees, wrapped his arms around my legs, and sobbed. "Clara, I'm so sorry." "I just love you so much. It drives me crazy thinking you care about anyone else." "I promise, I'll never do it again." Chapter 2 The second time, he smashed my phone. Because Oliver texted me, asking if I could hang out with him over the weekend. When Julian saw the words hang out with me, his face darkened instantly. "Does he not have any friends?" I replied, "He's just asking if I'm free." He took my phone and hurled it at the hardwood floor. The screen shattered into a spiderweb. When I crouched down to pick it up, he stepped on it. "Clara, don't forget, you are a married woman now." A piece of shattered glass sliced my finger. A bead of blood welled up. When he saw the blood, he panicked again. "I didn't mean to." "Don't cry, I'll buy you a new one. The most expensive one they have." That night, he held me and talked for hours. He told me his parents had a toxic, abusive marriage when he was a kid, which left him with deep abandonment issues. He said he worked himself to the bone just so he could give me a perfect home. He told me that if I truly loved him, I needed to be more understanding of his temper. Listening to him, my heart actually softened. But the incidents became more frequent. If he drank too much, he would choke me. If a business deal fell through, he would hurl glass ashtrays at my feet. He would scroll through my phone, and if he didn't find anything suspicious, he would accuse me of deleting my messages. Once, while he was out of town on a business trip, I went to visit my parents. Oliver saw the dark purple bruising around my wrist, and all the color drained from his face. "Clara, who did that?" I quickly pulled my sleeve down. "I bumped into a doorframe." Oliver’s lips trembled, and tears immediately welled up in his eyes. "You're lying." My heart ached. But he was crying so hard that I actually ended up having to comfort him. "It's really nothing." "All married couples fight sometimes." That was the exact phrase my mother-in-law, Martha, had taught me. Every time she saw the bruises on my face, she would just frown and sigh: "Clara, Julian has a quick temper, but he has a good heart." "Men are under a lot of pressure providing for the family. As his wife, you need to be more forgiving." My father-in-law, Robert, was even better at spinning it. "A peaceful home brings prosperity." "If you make a big deal out of this, both our families will look bad." "You young people shouldn't blow every little argument out of proportion." I thought about leaving. But I didn't have a job. I didn't have access to my bank accounts. My ID, passport, and social security card were locked inside Julian's safe because he said he was "afraid I'd lose them." He also constantly used my family as leverage. "Your brother just opened that new salon, right? Do you want me to make sure his business goes under?" I was terrified. So, I secretly bought a cheap, prepaid phone and hid it, just in case. I never actually thought I'd use it. Until that night. Julian came home from a networking dinner reeking of cheap whiskey. The second he walked through the door, he demanded: "Who was here today?" I told him no one. He picked up my regular phone and tossed it onto the sofa. "Then explain this UberEats receipt. Two bubble teas and a slice of cake?" I froze. That afternoon, Oliver was worried I was lonely, so he ordered me some treats. The delivery note said: Sis, have something sweet so you feel better. Julian stared at the delivery note and let out a dark, mocking laugh. "Your little fairy brother again." "Does he think I can't control my own wife?" I tried to explain. "He just ordered some food." The next second, he grabbed the half-empty bubble tea cup and hurled it at the wall. The plastic shattered, brown liquid splattering across the white paint. He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me toward the entryway. "Clara, are you literally incapable of understanding me?" I struggled, which only made him pull harder. When the back of my head slammed against the sharp edge of the entryway console table, my vision went completely black for a second. Warm liquid started trailing down my neck. Julian actually looked startled. But a second later, he reached past me and locked the deadbolt. Chapter 3 I sat slumped on the hardwood floor in the entryway, the only sound in my ears my own ragged breathing. Julian paced the living room, smoking a cigarette. Then he lit another. Finally, he pulled out his phone and called his parents. "She's throwing another fit." "I barely even touched her, she threw herself into the cabinet." "You guys need to come over and talk some sense into her, otherwise she's going to threaten me with divorce again." My head was pounding. I knew I couldn't wait any longer. While he was out on the balcony talking on the phone, I used the wall to pull myself up and stumbled into the bedroom. There were only three numbers saved in my hidden phone. Dad, Mom, and Oliver. My parents were older, and my dad had a bad heart. I didn't dare ask them to rush over in the middle of the night. I stared at Oliver's name, hesitating. He was so cowardly. So fragile. When I finally hit the call button, my only thought was: Whatever. I'll just ask him to call me an Uber. The phone rang three times. He picked up. It was loud in the background, like he was cleaning up his salon after closing. "Hey Sis! It's super late, did you miss me?" I opened my mouth. My throat felt like it was lined with shattered glass. I only managed to croak out one sentence: "Oliver... I want to come home." The background noise on his end instantly stopped. A few seconds later, he asked, his voice tight: "Clara... are you crying?" I didn't answer. Oliver's breathing became erratic. "Did that bastard hit you again?" I could hear his voice trembling violently. "I'm coming to get you." I panicked. "Oliver, don't try to be a hero. Just call 911 for me." He sniffled loudly. "I already called my boyfriend, Leo. He's driving over to pick you up right now." "Sis, wait for me." I was stunned. He was speaking incredibly fast, his voice thick with tears. "And I called a lawyer friend of mine. She said you absolutely have to document the evidence of the abuse." It felt like someone had driven a fist directly into my chest. He was so terrified, yet he was spending the car ride frantically researching how to save me. I heard Julian's heavy footsteps walking back into the living room. I quickly hung up and shoved the phone deep into the pocket of my pajama pants. Just as I walked back out, the doorbell rang. It was Martha and Robert, my in-laws. The second Martha walked in and saw the blood covering my neck, she quickly pulled the door shut behind her. "Oh my god, what happened here?!" Julian ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "She threw herself into the cabinet." Martha immediately latched onto the excuse: "Right, right. Couples argue, sometimes things get physical, it's totally normal." "Clara, honestly, why didn't you just get out of his way?" I looked up at her. "He dragged me by my hair and smashed my head into the corner." Martha's face stiffened. Robert sat down heavily on the sofa and cleared his throat. "Clara, this is not the time to throw a tantrum." "Julian is in the middle of closing a massive commercial contract. If word of this gets out, it ruins everything for everyone." My head was spinning. "But I need to go to the hospital." Martha quickly interjected: "Hospital? Why do you need a hospital? I've got iodine in my purse, I'll clean it up for you, you'll be fine." Just then, there was another knock at the door. Julian walked over and opened it. A woman in her mid-forties stood outside, wearing a neighborhood association badge and holding a clipboard. It was Brenda, the community mediator. She didn't look the least bit surprised when she saw me. "Clara, honey, have a seat." "When couples have disagreements, calling the cops is the worst thing you can do. Once the police are involved, your marriage is permanently damaged." She pulled a pre-printed form from her clipboard and slid it across the coffee table toward me. "Just sign this incident report." I looked down at the paper. It read: Both parties engaged in a verbal disagreement over household matters. The female party became emotionally volatile and accidentally collided with furniture, sustaining minor injuries. The male party has apologized. The female party voluntarily agrees not to press charges or involve law enforcement, and both parties agree to continue cohabitating. The words accidentally collided felt like physical daggers in my eyes. I shook my head. "I'm not signing that." Chapter 4 The living room fell dead silent for a few seconds. Then, Julian let out a dark laugh. "Clara, I'm giving you a way out here." "Don't push your luck." Martha quickly tugged his sleeve. "Calm down, don't scare her." But when she turned back to me, her tone was even colder. "Clara, Julian gives you everything you could ever want. You don't even have to work. What more do you want?" I pointed a shaking finger at my bleeding forehead. "You call this giving me everything?" Brenda sighed heavily. "I've mediated hundreds of domestic disputes. You fight at night, you make up in the morning." "If you put him in jail today, you're going to regret it tomorrow." My voice shook. "I will never regret it." Robert's face darkened. "Your brother just opened that new salon of his, didn't he?" "If your extended family finds out you got divorced because your husband beat you, how is your family going to show their faces in public?" I felt like I had been plunged into an ice bath. They didn't care if I was in agony. They only cared about protecting Julian's reputation. Brenda shoved a pen into my hand. "Just sign it." "Sign it, get some sleep, and everything will be fine in the morning." I stared at the pen, my fingers completely numb. Right at that moment, the doorbell rang again. This time, Julian didn't open it immediately. He stared at me, realizing what was happening. "You called someone, didn't you?" I didn't answer. He sneered, walked over, and yanked the door open. Oliver was standing in the hallway. When Julian saw him, he actually burst out laughing. "Well, well." "The little fairy came for a midnight stroll?" Oliver was terrifyingly pale. When he saw the blood covering my forehead and neck, tears instantly poured down his face. "Clara..." My heart ached unbearably. "Go away, Oliver, just go!" Oliver shook his head. He stepped inside the apartment, his voice trembling violently: "I'm taking you home." Julian leaned against the doorframe, a mocking smirk on his face. "Taking her home?" "How exactly are you going to do that? Hit me with your little designer purse?" Martha frowned deeply. "Oliver, this is between a husband and wife. Don't interfere." Oliver completely ignored her. He walked right past her and stood in front of me. Even though I could see his legs physically shaking, he still used his body to shield me. Then, he pulled his phone out of his bag. He opened the camera and hit record. He pointed the lens at every single person in the living room. "My sister is not signing that paper." Brenda's face paled. "What are you recording? Put the phone down." Oliver sniffled loudly. "No." "My sister is injured. We're going to the hospital, and we're calling the police." Julian's smirk vanished. "Say that again?" Oliver's fingers were trembling so badly he could barely hold the phone steady. But he still said it: "You hit her. That is domestic violence." Julian took a slow, menacing step toward him. "Oliver, do you honestly think I won't lay you out?" Oliver instinctively flinched backward. But he kept the phone held high. "Stay away from me, I'm recording you." Julian sneered. "Recording? I'll give you something to record." He lunged forward, trying to snatch the phone. Oliver screamed and dodged to the side. "Oliver!" I tried to jump up and pull Julian away, but he violently shoved me back onto the sofa. Another sharp spike of pain shot through the back of my head. Oliver was crying, his eyes completely bloodshot, but he refused to let go of the phone. "Get off of me!" Julian ground his teeth. "Stop trying to act like a man!" "Get the hell out of my house." Oliver winced in pain. Suddenly, he swung his other arm, using his heavy, rhinestone-studded clutch bag to smack Julian right in the face. Julian completely lost his mind. He raised his hand, winding up to deliver a massive blow. Oliver squeezed his eyes shut in terror and screamed at the top of his lungs. "Babe! Get in here and hit him!"
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