Chapter 1
On the day of our third wedding anniversary, I was scrolling through my social media feed when I spotted a post from my best friend, Daisy Morrison.
I happily hit the like button and zoomed in for a better look.
I was dying to find out who that mysterious husband she kept bragging about really was.
The names on the certificate were Daisy and my husband, Simon Morrison.
The date on the certificate was the same as the one on my marriage certificate.
I turned to look at the safe, where Simon and I kept our marriage certificate locked away.
In the comments, Simon's friends were all congratulating them.
[Congrats, Simon and Daisy. Happy third anniversary!]
[Heard Daisy's pregnant. Double celebration!]
I stared at the screen, and it all clicked.
Whenever they called me "Daphne" at dinner, I always caught that flicker of guilt in their eyes.
My hands were shaking as I dialed Simon's number.
The call went through.
I recognized that voice instantly.
It was Daisy.
Daisy said, "Daphne, do you like your third anniversary surprise?"
On the day we got our marriage certificates, Simon took both and joked with a smile, "I'm keeping these safe, just in case you ever try to sneak off and file for divorce."
So, after three years of marriage, I'd never even seen what my own marriage certificate looked like.
All I could hear was what was happening on the other end of the call.
Breaths, moans, and laughter came in waves, each one cutting into me like a blunt knife.
I said, "You guys are just messing with me, right?
"I really don't like this kind of joke. Please, stop it..."
I kept telling myself it was just a surprise, clinging to that tiny bit of hope.
But the sounds from their side didn't stop. They just got even louder.
It was like they were doing it on purpose to rub it in.
Daisy was laughing, her giggles coming in gasps, calling out his name in a soft, sultry voice.
Simon let out a low groan, which was the kind of sound he only ever made in bed.
After we got married, he never came near me again.
He always said, "Your health isn't great. I don't want you to go through that."
I felt so ashamed, always hating myself for not being strong enough to fulfill my duties as a wife.
It hit me that he never needed me at all.
I smashed everything I could in the bedroom, sobbing until I was gasping for air.
When I finally wore myself out, I slumped down amid the mess, trembling.
Shards of glass dug into my palms, blood trickling down between my fingers.
Things finally went quiet on their end of the line.
Then Daisy's voice came through, her words oozing with smug satisfaction.
"My husband's in the shower. Just wait. He'll be right out," she said.
She called him her hubby.
Everyone knew she had this mysterious, legendary husband.
He never showed up in person, but his presence was everywhere.
Her purse was a limited edition, and her ring was a sapphire worth 60 million dollars.
Flowers and candlelit dinners were never missing from her life.
But she always said she envied me.
"Simon is such a good man. He is gentle, rich, and he takes care of his partner in every possible way," she'd say.
She was praising her own man all along.
The phone was set aside, and I could hear the sound of slippers shuffling away.
I stared at the ceiling, tears slipping down my cheeks.
An entire minute passed in silence.
I felt like a death row inmate, every second was torture, just waiting for the axe to drop.
Then, someone picked up the phone.
A low, raspy cough came from the other end.
"Have you finished acting crazy?" Simon said coldly.
"Why?" I asked.
He ignored my question.
He said, "Everything you smashed was paid for by me. This house, the furniture, the clothes you wear, every dollar you spend, it's all mine.
"You're just a stay-at-home wife who can't make a single dollar, but you sure know how to burn through my money."
So, in his eyes, I was nothing more than a useless housewife.
But he was the one who told me all that.
"Your health isn't great. I'd worry if you worked outside. Let me take care of you. Just stay home and live the good life," he'd said.
Besides, every time I tried to get a job, nothing ever worked out.
So, I just ended up being a stay-at-home wife.
I honestly believed he cared about me.
My voice shook.
"Why are you doing this to me? What did I ever do to hurt you?" I asked.
They laughed together on the other end, like they were making fun of an idiot.
"Daphne, do you know what people used to call Daisy and me in private?" Simon said.
My heart sank.
He said, "Parasites.
"People used to say we were just parasites, feeding off you, because you were the rich heiress and we were just a couple of broke losers."
"I didn't..." I started.
He cut me off.
"Every time you thought you were doing us a favor, did you feel all noble and accomplished?
"Like we should be grateful for you? Do you even know what that's like?"
I drifted into memories.
Back in my sophomore year, Simon couldn't afford his tuition, so I secretly paid it for him.
He looked at me, teary-eyed, and said he'd never forget it for the rest of his life. I believed him.
Daisy told me her mom was sick, so I transferred 15 thousand dollars to her.
She hugged me and cried, saying I was her best friend. I believed her.
It was all a lie.
Every tear, every thank you, and every smile was fake.
"So you've been lying to me all this time..." I said.
Simon laughed again.
"Yeah, now you're a parasite too, Daphne. Do you finally understand?" Simon sneered.
My temples started pounding.
That pain, like someone was drilling into my head, came back.
My mind felt like it was about to burst.
I couldn't hold on anymore. My knees crashed to the floor, and I fell right into the shards of broken glass.
My back, elbows, and calves were all stabbed and burning from the shards of glass.
But even all that pain together couldn't compare to the agony in my chest—it was barely a drop in the ocean.
Simon's voice came through the phone, dripping with impatience. "Having another episode?
"Second drawer in your nightstand. Go take your meds. How many times do I have to repeat myself?"
The year my family lost everything, my dad was sentenced to fifteen years in prison. My mom died in a car crash on her way to visit him.
After that, I started getting these crippling headaches.
Simon took me to hospitals all over the country, ran every test imaginable, but not a single doctor could tell us what was wrong.
In the end, a psychiatrist said it was all in my head. It was trauma-induced and stress-related.
No medicine could fix it.
All I could do was pop painkillers and tough it out.
When it hit, I'd go completely out of my mind.
I wouldn't recognize anyone, couldn't remember a thing. There was only one thought in my head.
It hurt so much that I just wanted it to end.
When I wanted to jump off the rooftop, Simon would step out onto the roof first, turn around, and grin at me.
"Daphne, I'll try the height first. If it's not high enough, I'll go up another floor," Simon would say.
When I wanted to drown myself, he'd dive into the icy river before I could, his lips turning purple from the cold, and call out to me.
"Hold on, don't come in yet. Let me check if there are any weeds down here. Getting tangled wouldn't look good."
He always said, "Daphne, you'll never be alone."
That was the kind of man he was.
Even when I wanted to die, he wouldn't let me suffer by myself.
He'd been deceiving me for so long.