Chapter 3The Softest Shield

I slumped on the floor, the sound of my own ragged breathing filling the hallway. Ethan was in the living room, lighting one cigarette after another.

I heard him call his parents.

"She’s making a scene again. I barely touched her and she threw herself against the furniture. You guys need to come over and talk sense into her before she starts threatening divorce again."

My head throbbed. I knew I couldn't wait any longer. While he was on the balcony finishing his call, I used the wall to pull myself up and stumbled into the bedroom.

I only had three numbers memorized. My dad, my mom, and Riley. My parents were old and my dad’s heart wasn't great; I couldn't risk them having a stroke in the middle of the night.

I stared at Riley’s name. He was so timid. He’d probably just panic. As I dialed, I told myself: I’ll just ask him to call an Uber for me. That’s all.

The phone rang three times.

"Jamie? It’s late, did you miss me?" Riley’s voice was chirpy, but there was background noise like he was closing up the shop.

I tried to speak, but my throat felt like it was full of glass. All I managed was: "Riley... I want to come home."

The silence on the other end was absolute. Then, "Jamie, are you crying?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't.

I heard his breath hitch. "That son of a bitch hit you again, didn't he?" His voice was shaking. "I’m coming. Right now."

"Riley, don't! Just... just call the police."

I heard him sniffle. "I already called my friend, Gavin. He’s driving. Jamie, just hold on for me."

I was stunned. He was talking fast now, between sobs. "And I called a lawyer I know. She told me we need to preserve the evidence. Don't wash anything, Jamie. I’m almost there."

My heart felt a sudden, sharp pang. He was terrified—I could hear it in every breath—yet he was researching how to save me while he was on the way.

Ethan’s footsteps approached from the living room. I shoved the phone into my robe pocket just as the doorbell rang.

It was Martha and Richard.

Martha pushed past Ethan and saw the blood on my neck. She immediately shut the door behind her. "Oh, for heaven’s sake. How did this happen?"

"She tripped," Ethan said, his voice tight.

Martha didn't miss a beat. "Right, right. Couples have accidents when they argue. Jamie, dear, you really should be more careful."

I looked at her, my vision blurred. "He grabbed my hair. He threw me."

Martha’s face hardened. Richard sat on the sofa and cleared his throat. "Jamie, now is not the time for hysterics. Ethan’s firm is in the middle of a massive city contract. If rumors get out, it ruins everyone. Think of the big picture."

My head spun. "I need a hospital."

"A hospital?" Martha snapped. "And have them ask questions? We have antiseptic in the cabinet. I’ll clean it up and you’ll be fine."

There was another knock at the door. Ethan opened it to reveal Pamela, a woman from the neighborhood HOA who doubled as a "community mediator." She walked in with a clipboard, looking completely unfazed.

"Jamie, honey, sit down," Pamela said. "Marriage is hard. You don't want to involve the police. Once you do that, there’s no going back. It ruins a man’s career."

She pulled a piece of paper from her folder and slid it toward me.

It was a "Statement of Incident." It read: Both parties engaged in a verbal disagreement. The wife became emotional and accidentally collided with furniture, resulting in minor injury. The husband has apologized. The wife declines to press charges and wishes to continue the marriage.

The words "accidentally collided" felt like a knife in my eye. I shook my head. "I’m not signing that."