Chapter 2 - THE RULES OF THE HOUSE
I barely slept.
Dwight spent most of the night insisting his sister “didn’t mean anything.”
“What did she mean, then?”
He sat on the edge of the bed.
“She has a big mouth.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Elizabeth, we got married twelve hours ago. Can we not fight?”
I laughed once.
“You gave your mother permission to hand me a job description.”
“It’s temporary.”
“You said living here was temporary.”
“It is.”
“When do we move?”
He looked away.
That was the first time he failed to give me a date.
At seven the next morning, Susan knocked once and opened the door without waiting.
“Breakfast is at eight.”
I sat up.
“Great.”
She stared at me.
“You’re cooking.”
“No.”
Her face tightened.
“Excuse me?”
“I said no.”
By eight-thirty, the argument had moved into the living room.
Three laundry baskets sat in front of the television.
Susan pointed at them.
“The washer’s been acting up. You’ll need to wash these by hand.”
I poured myself tea.
Then sat down.
“I won’t be washing any of it.”
Gemma stormed from the hallway.
“You’re unbelievable.”
Ryan pulled out his phone.
“This is going online.”
“Go ahead.”
Susan began crying.
Real tears or fake, I couldn’t tell.
Dwight rubbed his temples.
“Liz, please. Just do it this once.”
I looked at him.
“What would you like me to wash first? Your father’s underwear or your brother’s socks?”
Ryan snorted.
Gemma grabbed a pair of panties from the basket and threw them at me.
They landed on my arm.
I removed them slowly.
Dropped them on the floor.
Then stood.
“I’m leaving.”
Dwight followed me into the bedroom.
“Don’t be dramatic.”
I pulled my suitcase from the closet.
“I’m not being dramatic.”
“You’re destroying our marriage over laundry.”
“No.”
I folded a sweater.
“I’m leaving because you lied to me.”
“About what?”
“Everything.”
His face hardened.
“You always do this.”
I stopped packing.
“Do what?”
“Make yourself the victim.”
I stared at him.
Then something clicked.
That sentence didn’t sound spontaneous.
It sounded practiced.
I zipped my suitcase and headed for the door.
Jared, Dwight’s father, stood in front of it.
“You’re not walking out after disrespecting my wife.”
“Move.”
“You apologize first.”
“No.”
His voice dropped.
“In this house, my son’s wife obeys or she leaves.”
“Perfect.”
I reached for the door.
“If I leave, Dwight gets divorce papers.”
The first slap snapped my head sideways.
Before I recovered, the second hit landed.
My ear rang.
Blood touched my tongue.
I looked at Dwight.
He stood frozen.
Not horrified.
Not angry.
Just… nervous.
As if what worried him wasn’t that his father hit me.
What worried him was that I might leave.
That distinction saved my life.
I stepped toward the balcony.
Found a steel repair bar.
Walked back inside.
Raised it.
And smashed the dining table.
Glass exploded across the floor.
Susan screamed.
Jared stumbled backward.
Ryan’s phone kept recording.
I pointed at the broken table.
“Next person who touches me gets arrested.”
I grabbed my suitcase.
This time nobody stopped me.
As the elevator doors closed, Dwight shouted my name.
But I had already made my decision.
What I didn’t know was that Ryan’s recording had captured something else.
May you like
Something whispered in the background seconds after the second slap.
And once my lawyer enhanced the audio, Dwight’s real panic finally made sense.
