Husband, I am Leaving for Good

“Do you still want to marry me?” The phone pressed hard to my ear as I stared at the cracked ceiling of my room. “If yes, then come get me in a week.”

There was a beat of static, then Martin’s exasperated scoff echoed through the line. “Okay, babe? What’s wrong now? Agreeing to marry me when you’ve sworn to never even look at me? What happened to the love of your life—Troy? Aren’t you engaged to your perfect golden boy?”

My chest pinched. I dug my nails into my palm, grounding myself. “I’m going to be a runaway bride. So if you want me, come get me.”

I hung up before Martin could finish. I could already imagine him tossing his phone across his fancy living room, cursing my name like he used to in high school. The mighty Martin—my sworn enemy since I was sixteen—was the last person I should run to. But right now, I’d rather run into his arms than stay here.

Than stay with them.

Troy and Trevor. My perfect boyfriend and my perfect best friend.

Once upon a time, it was the three of us—always together, always laughing. The kind of best friends people envied. We were kids when we promised each other forever, that nothing and no one would ever break us apart.

And then my cousin Jasmine arrived. I had brought her in like family should, trusting her with the deepest parts of my life. I should’ve seen it coming. The stolen glances between Jasmine and Troy, the lingering touches, the excuses Trevor made when he canceled plans with me. But I loved them—I thought love would make them stay loyal.

What a fool.

It was three months ago when the first dagger sank in. Jasmine sent me a video—Troy, my fiancé, tangled up in bed with her. She sent it with a giggle and a single line: Oops, sorry, wrong sender. You weren’t supposed to see that.

The latest betrayal was the hostage. Three days ago, Jasmine and I were shopping when men with guns stormed in. Screaming, chaos, a barrel pressed against my head. And when they asked Troy and Trevor to choose—only one girl to save—they didn’t even hesitate. They chose Jasmine.

They left me there. I remembered Jasmine’s crocodile tears as she was pulled to safety, leaving me kneeling on the cold marble floor. I fought. I begged. I was hurt, tortured, until strangers in SWAT gear finally dragged me out. And still, Troy and Trevor never visited me in the hospital. Not once.

A loud thrum of bass rattled the walls, snapping me back to the present. The party was in full swing—Jasmine’s birthday. Of course. They remembered her birthday but not mine.

I rolled onto my side, squeezing my eyes shut.

A sudden creak of the door made me jolt. Jasmine stood there in the glow of the hallway light, hair perfect, silk dress shimmering, a glass of red wine perched in her hand like a trophy. She smirked. “Oh. You’re here. Aren’t you supposed to be at the party? Serving drinks?”

I forced my voice to stay calm. “I’m not your maid, Jasmine. Get out. I want to sleep.”

She pouted dramatically. “Really? You want to rest? Or you’re just jealous because Troy and Trevor threw me this party? Come on, Camille. Stop sulking.”

She reached out, grabbed my wrist with those manicured claws. “Let’s go downstairs. You should see how much they love me.”

“I said no.” I yanked my hand back. “Get out.”

Her face hardened for half a second before she twisted it into a mask of fake pain. She let out a gasp, flung her glass of wine to the floor where it shattered—then she dropped down onto her ankle, whimpering like an injured puppy.

“Camille! Why—why would you push me? My ankle—”

Heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway. Of course. Troy and Trevor, their savior instincts kicking in, only for her.

“Jas? What’s wrong?” Troy demanded, pulling her into his arms. Trevor glared at me like I’d kicked a kitten.

“I—I just wanted her to come to the party and have fun,” Jasmine sniffed, eyes glistening. “But she hates me. She pushed me.”

“She’s lying—”

“Enough!” Troy snapped. “You’re still playing the victim? Is this because of the hostage? You’re mad at us for choosing her. But you’re alive, aren’t you? Be grateful.”

Trevor crossed his arms. “She just wants to celebrate her birthday. But you ruin everything, Camille. You always have.”

Jasmine turned her face into Troy’s chest, smirking where they couldn’t see. “Don’t be harsh on her,” she cooed. “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

They didn’t see the venom in her eyes when she peeked at me.

I wanted to scream. To rip her hair out. But what was the point? They’d always believe her.

Troy’s grip tightened on Jasmine’s shoulder. “If you keep this attitude, Camille, you don’t deserve to be my wife.”

Trevor snorted. “You don’t even deserve to be our friend.”

The world tilted. But I stayed still. One more week.

“Go downstairs,” Troy ordered. “Serve drinks. Make yourself useful.”

I could’ve refused. Should’ve. But instead, I nodded numbly, feet moving like I was sleepwalking. In my mind, I was already gone.

I carried trays of champagne through the glittering crowd, eyes blurry with unshed tears. Jasmine’s laugh cut through the music—she was radiant, dancing with my people.

Then something slammed into my back. A hand, one of Jasmine’s friends. A shove. I stumbled. The tray clattered from my hands and I tumbled over the edge of the pool.

Cold swallowed me whole. I thrashed, but I’d never learned how to swim. Water filled my lungs. I could see them on the edge—Troy, Trevor, Jasmine—watching.

“She’s faking it,” Troy said.

“Always desperate for attention,” Trevor added.

And Jasmine? She just tilted her head, smiling.

The last thing I heard was laughter bubbling above the waterline as darkness dragged me under.

One more week, I told myself. Just one more week—

And then, nothing.