Right after our honeymoon ended, my husband said it was time for me to learn “the rules of being a wife.” I calmly changed into my boxing clothes and gloves.
“Perfect timing. I need a training partner.”
Three hours after we returned from Hawaii, my suitcase still sat beside the bed, filled with bright dresses, sunscreen, and photographs of us pretending to be happy. During the trip, Derek had criticized my clothes, corrected the way I spoke to waiters, and repeatedly asked about my finances. I kept telling myself he was insecure.
That night, he stood in our bedroom holding his belt and smiling as if our marriage had finally reached the moment he had been waiting for.
“Now that the honeymoon is over,” Derek said, “you need to learn the rules of being a wife.”
I did not scream. I slowly unbuttoned my loose travel shirt and let it fall onto the chair.
His grin widened.
“Good. Obedience makes everything easier.”
Underneath, I wore a black compression top and boxing shorts. I reached into my suitcase, pulled out my red training gloves, and tightened the straps with my teeth.
“Perfect timing,” I said. “I need a training partner.”
Derek laughed. He knew I worked at a neighborhood gym, but he assumed I handled memberships and cleaned equipment. He had never asked why my knuckles were scarred or why a framed photograph in my office showed me holding a national championship trophy.
He stepped toward me.
I stayed calm, avoided his reach, and quickly made it clear that I would not be intimidated. The confidence disappeared from his face and was replaced by confusion.
I backed away and pressed the emergency button on my phone.
“Get out,” I said.
His face twisted.
“Dare? I’ll tell everyone you lost control.”
“That,” I replied, glancing toward the tiny camera hidden inside the smoke detector, “would be an interesting story.”
For a moment, the confidence drained from his eyes.
He picked up his phone and called his mother.
“Mom,” he said, staring at me, “she’s gone crazy.”
