Her Trauma Was A Sick Lie

My wife came home late that night, looking like a ghost.

Her stockings were shredded, her dress barely clinging to her hips, and her skin was a road map of angry, crimson bruises.

The moment she crossed the threshold, she bolted for the bathroom, locking the door. I heard the shower immediatelyshe scrubbed until her skin was raw, desperate to erase what had happened.

I wanted her to call the police. I begged her.

But after hours of relentless scrubbing, the police said there was no physical evidence left. When the district attorneys office reviewed the case, the surveillance cameras in her bosss office were, coincidentally, "under maintenance." Eventually, the case was dropped due to insufficient evidence.

Rage consumed me. I drove straight to her office and beat her supervisor into the floor.

My reward was seven days in a local detention facility for assault.

It wasn't just the jail time. After the incident, Veronica developed severe psychological distress. For two agonizing months, she flinched away from my touchany touch.

I finally reached my limit. I called her family over, sat them down in our living room, and announced I wanted a divorce.

Veronica stared at me, disbelief warring with pain in her eyes.

"Is this my fault? Am I to blame because I was assaulted? And youre leaving me over this?"

I looked at her, my voice flat, hollowed out of all emotion.

"Yes. Precisely because you were assaulted, I am divorcing you."

Veronicas face was slick with tears, her gaze full of shock and betrayal.

"Nick, is this what you've wanted for months? Did you just use what happened as an excuse?"

"You've wanted to leave me since day one, haven't you? You think I'm dirty now."

I met the gaze of the sobbing woman in front of me, but I felt nothing. My heart was a stone.

"Whatever you think, this marriage is over today."

Veronica gasped, startled by the finality in my voice. She hadn't expected me to be so firm.

My mother-in-law, Mrs. Peterson, immediately scowled.

She started to speak, but Mr. Peterson squeezed her arm, stopping her.

"Nick, son, I know this is hard for you to swallow, but Veronica is the victim here," Mr. Peterson said, his tone softening in a bid for peace.

"She didn't ask for this. Shes suffering enough. This is the test of your vows, isn't it? As husband and wife, you get through this."

Mrs. Peterson jumped in, her voice shrill.

"That's right, Nick! Veronica has been a good wife! Look at hershes beautiful, shes successful. You got lucky marrying her! This is the kind of man youre going to be? Abandoning your wife when she needs you most? Grow up, apologize to her, and stop this foolishness!"

Veronica, recovering slightly, reached for my hand, playing the supportive wife.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I know you've been hurting, too."

"You don't have to apologize. Let's just put this behind us and move forward. Please?"

The other Peterson relatives who had gathered in the living room chimed in, leaning into the pressure.

"Nick, this is wrong. No one wanted this for Veronica. Youre the man, you need to be bigger."

"And honestly, you have some blame here. She was working latewhy didn't you go pick her up? If you had, none of this would have happened!"

"Come on, forget the divorce talk. You two are young. This is nothing in the grand scheme of things. Your lives are just beginning."

Hope flickered back into Veronicas tear-stained eyes.

"Sweetheart, I know the last two months have been so hard on you."

"I promise Ill adjust. We can just pretend it never happened, okay?"

Her voice caught on a sob. If you didn't know the full story, youd think she was making the biggest sacrifice in the world.

I took a step back, breaking her grip on my hand, ignoring the chorus of judging relatives.

"Veronica."

My voice was ice. "I am going through with this divorce."

Veronica froze, her whole body rigid with shock.

Mr. Petersons face went dark with anger.

"Nick! You are an animal! Divorcing your wife over something like this? You are no man!"

I glanced at my father-in-law and gave a cold, short laugh.

"You're a man. If your wife came home after cheating on you, could you live with her?"

Mrs. Petersons hand trembled as she pointed a finger inches from my nose, her voice cracking.

"Thats not the same! Was she willing? Did she want this to happen?"

I didn't answer her. I looked down at Veronica.

I remembered that night two months ago: Veronica floating into the house, lost, her stockings torn, her dress hanging like a rag. She didn't see me, just went straight to the shower.

The next day, she told me she was forced by her supervisor, Clay. She fought, she said, but it was no use.

I was blind with rage. I dragged her to the police station.

But all evidence had literally gone down the drain. The company cameras were "down," and the police told us we had nothing. Case closed.

Watching Veronica exist as a shell, dissolving into tears every day, I felt a desperate, helpless pain. I went to her company and gave Clay the beating of his life.

I spent a week in custody.

Two months had passed.

The truth of what happened that nightwhether she was forced or notwas known only to Veronica and Clay.

A cynical smile touched my lips.

"Veronica, why do I want this divorce?"

"Don't you actually know the reason?"

She flinched, a flash of guilt flickering in her eyes.

I stepped further away, putting distance between us.

"After it happened, I told you to quit. I told you I could support us, cover the mortgage and the bills. I told you to stay home and heal. But you refused. You insisted on going back to that office every single day, to face the man you claimed was disgusting."

Veronica visibly relaxed at my words. She immediately played the martyr, tears streaming down her face.

"We've only been married for two years! We have the mortgage, the car payment, all our debt. How could I let you shoulder all that alone?"

"Nick, do you really think I'm an embarrassment? Do you think I'm 'throwing myself out there'?"

"I was doing it for you. For our family."

I scoffed.

"You know exactly who you were doing it for."

Hearing our exchange, the relatives reached a fever pitch.

"Nick, you are unbelievable! Veronica suffered a trauma, and youre not even thinking about her feelings, you're worried about her throwing herself out there?"

"Shes pushing through all that pain to keep working for you and the family! She has to face that monster every day. Don't you think she's hurting more than you?"

"You are the monster! The sheer ingratitude!"

Mr. Peterson had heard enough. He grabbed Veronicas arm, ready to pull her out.

"Come on! You're coming home with your mother and me! We dont need to talk to this kind of filth!"

Veronica pulled her arm away, tears still flowing, but her face set in a look of grim determination.

"It's okay, Dad. Nick and I are married. Whatever happens, we have to face it together."

"Hes just struggling right now. You two go home. I'll talk to him. Please don't worry about me."

Mr. Peterson's face twisted with helpless anger and pity for his daughter. He wanted to scream at her, but looking at her tear-streaked face, he couldn't find the words.

He turned his fury on me instead.

"Listen to me, Nick! You better think this through very carefully!"

"You're a stray! An orphan who only got a shot because we let you marry our daughter! If you leave her, you'll be on your ownsee how far you get then!"

With that, Mr. and Mrs. Peterson and the other relatives stormed out, not looking back.

The living room fell silent.

I took one long, assessing look at Veronica, then turned and walked upstairs to the master bedroom.

I locked the door and pulled out my phone, dialing my cousin, Danielle, who was an attorney.

"Danielle, any progress on what I asked you to check?"

Hearing her answer, a heavy weight I hadn't realized I was carrying finally shifted.

"Good. We may need to go to court in a few days. I need your full support."

I got home late the next night after work, and stopped dead in the doorway.

The dining table was set with an elaborate, beautifully plated dinner. Candles flickered softly, and Veronica was sitting there in a revealing, silky nightgown.

When she saw me, her face lit up.

"Honey, you're home! Come sit down, look what I made for you."

When I didn't move, she rushed over, took my hand, and gently led me to the table.

"I didn't sleep at all last night. I thought everything through. I realized that I wasn't the only one suffering these past two monthsyou were, too."

"I was so deep in my own pain, I didn't consider your feelings. I won't do that again. We can start fresh, together."

"Sweetheart, let's stop fighting. Please?"

As she spoke, Veronica deliberately straightened her back, pressing her chest forward.

Two years of marriage meant I knew exactly what that gesture meant.

Since that night two months ago, she had completely shut me out. Forget intimacy, even a simple arm around her shoulders would make her shriek in panic.

She must have convinced herself that my demand for a divorce was purely about her physical rejection. She thought this elaborate setup would fix everything.

How small she thinks I am.

I slipped my hand free and flicked on the bright overhead lights, shattering the cozy atmosphere.

"Veronica, stop the theatrics."

"I told you: this divorce is happening, no matter what."

She froze, stunned that I hadnt crumbled.

Before she could form a reply, two figures burst out of the guest room.

Mr. and Mrs. Peterson stood there, faces contorted with rage.

Mr. Peterson pointed a finger at me, but his words were directed at his daughter.

"How did I raise such a foolish, blind daughter! How could you choose a man like this? Look at you, doing this for him, and he still wants a divorce! He is making a fool out of you!"

Mrs. Peterson stepped forward, shielding her daughter behind her back.

"I know what's going on! This animal has been cheating on you!"

"It's the 21st century! No man leaves his wife over something like this unless he has someone else waiting in the wings! And why now? Why not two months ago? Why the sudden urgency?"

"Nick, tell me the truth. Do you have a mistress?"

Veronica looked at me, her tears suddenly stopping, her eyes wide with shock.

"Sweetheart, is this true?"

She didn't wait for an answer, muttering to herself, "It must be. It absolutely is."

"You've been coming home late every night for two months, and you always brush me off when I ask where you've been."

"You really did find someone else! Nick, how could you do this to me?"

I almost laughed at the sheer gall of the accusation.

"Who is cheating? Who has a secret life outside this house?"

"Veronica, your parents are right here. Do you dare tell them"

I was cut off. My mother-in-law, driven by righteous fury, lunged at me.

"Ill kill you! You bastard! Youre not even human!"

"My daughter has been through hell, and you have the audacity to find someone else? You're a pig!"

I hadn't anticipated her physical attack. She raked her nails across my cheek, leaving stinging, bloody lines.

But she was an elder. No matter how much I despised her daughter, I wouldn't hit her.

I backed away quickly, putting space between us.

Veronica, startled, grabbed her mother's arm.

I looked at Mr. Peterson, who still had a shred of composure.

"Take her home," I said, pointing to his wife.

"I'll say it one last time: If you don't want me to make this ugly, agree to the divorce immediately."

Mr. Peterson glowered at me, his expression one of pure, unrestrained hatred.

Finally, he regained control, turning to his wife and daughter.

"What are you waiting for? Let's go!"

Three days later, Veronica came back.

The moment she saw me, her eyes welled up.

"You won't answer my calls. You won't reply to my texts."

"Nick, what are you trying to do? Why are you punishing me like this?"

I didn't look up, instead busy packing her remaining personal items into boxes.

"We're getting a divorce. There's no reason to communicate."

Veronicas face hardened.

She wiped her eyes, took a deep breath, and spoke slowly, biting off each word.

"Nick, I am asking you for the last time. Are you absolutely determined to end this marriage?"

I didn't reply. I didn't even lift my head.

Mr. Petersons patience snapped. He slammed a folder onto the floor at my feet.

"Fine! We'll divorce!"

"But Veronica did nothing wrong in this marriage. Since you insist, you'll walk away with nothing! You leave completely empty-handed!"

I put down the box, picked up the settlement papers, and gave a cold smile.

"Whether she did anything wrong is a question you should ask your precious daughter."

"And you expect me to walk away empty-handed? You people are sickening."

The second my words left my mouth, Mrs. Peterson darted out from behind her husband, raising her designer handbag like a weapon.

"I should have never let my daughter marry you! I knew you were a rotten heart! You think you can claim she's the fault? I'm telling you: either you sign these papers and leave with nothing, or we'll see you in court. You won't take a single penny of my daughter's!"

I grabbed her swinging arm, simultaneously feeling a rush of satisfaction.

Court is exactly where I wanted to be.

Mrs. Peterson, thinking I was intimidated, yanked her purse back and continued her tirade.

"You're a leech! An ungrateful stray! You're an orphan with no family name! If the Petersons hadn't given you a chance, you'd be nothing!"

"Now you've got your girlfriend on the side, you want to throw my daughter out and pin the blame on her? I'm telling you, it won't be that easy!"

I was tired of the noise.

"Since we can't agree, we'll settle it in court."

"Talk is cheap. We'll let the judge decide."

A week later, the divorce proceedings began.

Veronicas family and a host of relatives filled the gallery, a wall of support and hostility. Their eyes burned with contempt and fury aimed squarely at me.

Before the hearing began, Veronica walked up to me, her eyes red-rimmed.

"Nick, do we really have to do this? We can still go home. We can be a family. We can forget everything that happened. Please?"

I ignored her, walking straight into the courtroom.

Once the initial paperwork was reviewed, the judge looked up at me.

"Mr. Hayes, the incident involving Ms. Peterson was a tragic accident. You are entitled to file for divorce, but your secondary conditions are unreasonable." (I had asked for a split that factored in her 'at-fault' behavior).

"Under these circumstances, you cannot demand Ms. Peterson walk away with nothing."

I stood up, meeting the judge's gaze.

"Your Honor, I have additional evidence."