Chapter 1: The Captain's Wife—A Life Unraveling

The third month after marrying the rough-and-tumble Army captain, I was so worn out that just seeing a bed made my legs go weak.

I remember flopping down on the scratchy sheets, the faint scent of bleach stinging my nose, my bones aching as if the exhaustion had seeped all the way through to my soul. Nights blurred together, and sometimes I’d catch myself staring at the faded Army-issue comforter, half-wondering if it might just swallow me whole. In those moments, all I wanted was a little quiet—just a moment to be soft again, not on guard.

Just as I was about to pack my things and run away, suddenly, like a glitch in the Matrix, lines of text scrolled across my vision—snarky, judgmental, almost comforting in their absurdity.

[LOL, all that Army training and the guy still has no clue—she looks like she needs a Gatorade and a nap, not round two.]

[Honestly, it’s because neither of them can communicate. Why does the female lead keep suffering? If she just called him 'babe,' he’d pull the stars down for her.]

I found it all absurd.

I mean, was I losing my mind? Maybe it was stress, or maybe I was just so desperate for someone to understand that I imagined an audience where there wasn’t one. My fingers would tremble on my phone sometimes, scrolling through nothing, searching for advice that never came. Even these phantom messages seemed more comforting than the cold shoulder I got every night.

Until later.

His big hand grabbed my thin bathrobe, his tone rough with righteous indignation.

"What’s wrong with me doing your laundry? I want to. If you touch cold water again, I’ll break your hand."

The command came out so raw, it almost made me laugh—except I could see in his eyes he meant it. For a second, the world shrank down to just the two of us, his rough fingers knotted in my robe, the laundry room humming behind him. I almost forgot to breathe.

1

"You want the heat cranked up? Still think you’re some pampered princess? Where’s your shame?"

Tanya spat, tossing a bowl of cold mac and cheese at me.

The noodles hit the table with a wet splat, and the coldness of her glare cut even deeper. The cafeteria’s fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, flickering in a way that set my nerves on edge. The linoleum under my feet was sticky, and the smell of reheated mac and cheese hung heavy in the air. Tanya’s voice always seemed to echo off the cinderblock walls, making everything feel even smaller.

I fought back tears and tried to reason with her.

"But I have my own money. If you don’t use it, you can’t stop others from using it, right?"

I clutched my debit card, knuckles white, barely above a whisper. The logic sounded childish even to me, but I couldn’t help it—growing up, that’s how things worked. You earned your allowance, you spent it. Now, every dollar felt like another secret I had to defend.

As soon as I finished, Tanya let out a cold laugh.

She rolled her eyes with a kind of slow, practiced malice, letting her spoon clang against her tray. Her mouth curled into a sneer that made my skin prickle. I could feel the eyes of the other women in the room flicker toward us, some pitying, others just hungry for drama.

Then she grabbed my collar in one swift motion.

With a sharp rip, my whole body—covered in red marks—was exposed to the air.

The sudden chill made me gasp. My hands flew up instinctively, trying to cover the bruises and welts that crawled across my skin like ugly secrets. Shame hit me like a slap. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move—my whole body frozen, wishing I could just vanish into the cracks in the floor.

I scrambled to cover my chest. "What are you doing? Let go!"

But Tanya’s grip on my shoulder was unyielding.

Her fingers dug in, nails biting through the thin fabric, keeping me pinned like a butterfly under glass. Her breath was hot and sour against my cheek, every word coming out in a hiss.

"You really think you’re the captain’s wife? If your dad hadn’t forced the captain to marry you out of gratitude, you’d be out there hustling for spare change, doing God knows what with God knows who."

The venom in her voice cut deeper than any slap. I could almost see the image she painted, my life dissolving into nightmare after nightmare. My heart hammered, and I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

"You’re just a toy, and you dare make demands?"

She slapped me across the face with her other hand.

The sound echoed in the room, sharp as a gunshot. My ears rang, and for a moment I saw stars. The humiliation burned hotter than the pain itself, and tears threatened to spill over.

"The captain said, once he’s tired of you, he’ll pass you off to his buddies for their fun. That’s a bargain for someone like you."

Her words stuck to me like tar. I wanted to scream, but all I could do was shake—wishing, just for a second, I could disappear. The other women pretended not to see, but I knew they heard every word.