I'd been married to Clayton for three years, but what did I get in return? Damaged hands, a heart full of grievances, and a body beyond repair. It wasn't until Arabella woke up that I discovered my husband had once been her boyfriend. Clayton married me purely out of spite. Yet, strangely, now that I'm at death's door, he seems more affectionate than ever.

By the time I arrived at the hospital, my sister was awake. Her bedside was crowded with people, including Clayton. "Arabella, you're finally awake, dear." "It's such a relief that you're awake." "Where's my sister?" Arabella glanced around but didn’t see me. Her face was pale, her brow slightly furrowed, and as soon as she spoke, Clayton's expression tensed up.

I tried to find my voice. When I finally spoke, it came out hoarse: "I'm here." As soon as I spoke, several pairs of eyes turned to me. I couldn't miss the disdain in Clayton's eyes. My parents quickly ushered me toward the bed. "You two were inseparable as kids. Now that Arabella is awake, you should have a talk."

Arabella’s eyes filled with tears. "Sister, I thought I'd never see you again." I patted her hand, my own eyes misting over. Three years ago, Arabella and I went on a spring hike in the Alps, but we ran into a gang of thugs. To save me, Arabella was not only violated but also hit on the head. If it weren’t for Clayton coming down the road that day, we might not have survived.

"Arabella, thank you." The events of that day have haunted me ever since. Arabella held my hand, her fingers tracing my knuckles. She lowered her gaze, exclaiming, "Sister, what happened to your hand?"

I followed her gaze to my own hand, now a mangled sight. My parents' eyes showed a flash of pain, while my husband gave me a warning look. Swallowing my grievances, I slowly said, "It's nothing, really. I got it caught under the piano lid during a performance. It doesn't hurt anymore."

Arabella cried over my hands. We talked a lot, and she asked if I'd been well these past three years. I hesitated for a moment, then said, "Pretty well." If only Clayton hadn’t brought other women home every other night. If only he hadn’t been the one to let the piano lid fall. If only he hadn’t subjected me to all those humiliations. Then, yes, these three years might have been good. But life doesn’t work that way.

After leaving the hospital, I said goodbye to my parents and turned back inside. As I neared the hospital room's door, I was about to knock when I overheard Clayton's voice from within.

"Arabella, you're finally awake. I was so scared you might never wake up."

"Clayton, don't be sad anymore. Look, I'm awake now, you silly."

"Yes, yes, you're awake. We won't ever be apart again."

Through the glass window, I saw Clayton holding Arabella tightly. My husband and my sister. The scene hit me like a jolt of electricity. I pushed the door open, my rationale left at the threshold.

Hearing the noise, Arabella looked at me, not with shame, but with a joy that bordered on triumph. "Liana, let me introduce you. This is Clayton, my boyfriend."

Clayton's gaze was tender on Arabella, but when he looked at me, his eyes turned cold, the warmth replaced by a chilly warning. He was signaling me to stay quiet.

But what could I say? He was my husband.

"Liana? Why are you staring at Clayton like that? Is something wrong?"

Clayton gently stroked Arabella's head, speaking softly, "Maybe Liana is still overcome with emotion. You just woke up; you shouldn't overdo it. Come, lie down and rest."

"But I want to talk a bit more."

"Be good and take a nap. I'll come back soon to keep you company."

"Alright, then." After calming Arabella, the tenderness vanished from Clayton's face. His expression darkened as he walked toward me and murmured, "Come with me."

I glanced at Arabella lying there, choking back my tears.

In the stairwell, Clayton grabbed my arm and pushed me against the wall. Pain shot through my back, and a soft hiss escaped my lips.

Clayton leaned against the wall, effectively pinning me in place.

"Liana, you know what you need to know. In front of Arabella, I don't want you to reveal our relationship."

"Even if I don't, she'll figure it out eventually."

We were husband and wife. It could be hidden for a while but not indefinitely.

Clayton's brows knitted, his eyes heavy with contemplation.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. "Then we'll get divorced, the sooner the better."

I scoffed, laughing bitterly. "Divorce? You think you’ve hurt me, and I’ll just let you hurt my sister too? You want a divorce? No way."

Three years of marriage, and I finally realized the kind of man Clayton truly was.

---

The next day felt bleak despite the bright autumn skies. Leaves crunched underfoot as I walked along the path lined with Victorian-style houses. I couldn't help but think back to the Thanksgivings when Arabella and I laughed over spiced honey cake and coffee. Such a stark contrast to the coldness between Clayton and me now.

As I reached my car, I glanced at my phone, half-expecting a message on WhatsApp from Clayton, but there was nothing. Perhaps it was better this way, I thought, as I drove towards my friend Elise's house, hoping to find some comfort.

Three years ago, Clayton Olson saved Arabella and me, and I've always been grateful to him. So much so that when he pursued me, I agreed without a second thought. However, the bliss of marriage was short-lived. My once gentle husband turned volatile. He never touched me, yet regularly brought different women home.

At first, I would argue with him, but he slapped me in front of those women. When I demanded a divorce, he hissed menacingly in my ear, "If you dare divorce me, I'll destroy your entire family."

Clayton is a devil, showing his true colors without any disguise. I raised my gnarled hands, my eyes red. "Do you remember how my hands ended up like this?" Clayton's expression shifted, but he showed no remorse.

Choking back tears, I said, "When I went to speak to the staff, I overheard your conversation. These hands—I lost them because of you. Clayton Olson, tell me why? What did I ever do to earn such hatred from you?"

Back then, the piano lid fell, and the doctor told me I would never play again. While searching for an explanation, I went backstage looking for the staff. Instead, I ran into someone who shouldn't have been there.

Half of Clayton's face was hidden in darkness, his demeanor cold, voice demonic. "Rest assured, I won't let her hold you responsible, but you'd better take this secret to your grave."

"Of course, of course, no one else will know you asked me to loosen the piano lid."

I was thunderstruck, unable to process it all. Infidelity aside, he knew the piano was my life's passion, yet he destroyed my hands.

Clayton sneered, mocking me, "It's just a pair of hands. Compared to what Arabella went through, it's nothing."

I stared at him, wide-eyed, in shock. He suddenly leaned close, murmuring in my ear, "Liana Olson, you should be grateful I didn't have you gang-raped."

Something inside me shattered. In that moment, Clayton was a devil straight from hell. His slender fingers brushed my face as he spoke words laced with venom.

"Now that Arabella is awake, my revenge is over. Liana Olson, you're left to wallow in your misery alone. Arabella and I won't be joining you."

Without a backward glance, Clayton left, leaving me stunned and alone.