Waking Up To Four Obsessive Husbands

I woke up in a room that smelled too much like bleach and lost time.

The doctor leaned over me, his expression unreadable behind a surgical mask. The amnesia is likely a temporary side effect of the concussion, he said, his voice a smooth, professional baritone. Then he gestured to the room at large. "Tell me, Tess. Which one is your current boyfriend?"

I looked at the men flanking my bed.

I pointed tentatively to the man on the leftthe one in the sharp, charcoal-grey suit.

The doctors eyes darkened. "Your current boyfriend."

I shifted my finger, pointing toward the man on the rightthe one in the leather racing jacket who looked like hed just stepped off a track in Monte Carlo.

The doctor gritted his teeth, his words coming out in a slow, dangerous clip. "Cur-rent. Boy-friend."

I hesitated, my heart hammering against my ribs. Finally, trembling, I pointed to the man standing directly in the center: the doctor himself.

He slowly reached up and pulled down his mask. A cold, predatory smile spread across his face.

"Perfect. So, baby... it seems that besides me, youve been seeing three others."

I didnt wait for an explanation. I scrambled toward the window, ready to hurl myself out.

Suddenly, a flicker of translucent textlike a digital ghostscrolled across my vision:

[Finally, the villainess is checking out. Quick, jump! Let the fourth psycho catch her and drag her into his basement. Let the torture begin!]

Wait. What?

But it was too late. I had already jumped.

It started because of a damn TikTok.

I was walking, glued to my phone, laughing at a video of a cat wearing a tiny hat, when I completely missed a step. I went tumbling down a flight of stairs like a discarded ragdoll.

The good news: I was physically fine.

The bad news: My memory was a total blank slate. I had no idea who I was, let alone who I was dating.

When the nurse told me to call "family" to come pick me up, I opened my contacts.

There were only four entries.

One was saved as a "Wrench" icon. I figured that was my mechanic. Pass.

The other three were... a problem.

They were saved as: Husband 1, Husband 2, and Husband 3.

I checked the area codes. They were from three different states. Strange. Did my "husband" have three different burner phones?

Whatever. I picked Husband 1 and hit dial. He picked up on the first ring.

"What is it?" his voice was icy, detached.

What kind of attitude was that? Was he an ex Id forgotten to rename? That would explain why I had a Husband 2.

I hung up immediately. Next.

I called Husband 2. He didn't answer right away. I was just about to hang up and try Number 3 when the line clicked open. His voice was a low, melodic bass, but it dripped with sarcasm.

"Finally decided to call back? Tell me, who was the guy who answered your phone earlier? I thought you said you were done with them. That I was the only one."

My brain stalled. What guy? I didn't know.

I hung up. Too much drama.

Husband 3 didn't pick up either, but a text popped up a second later:

[Youre awake? Im on my way. Are you hungry?]

I let out a long, shaky breath. Finally! Husband 3 was clearly the winner. The others were probably just messy flings I hadn't cleared out of my digital life yet. From now on, I was going to be a one-man woman. A paragon of loyalty.

I texted back: [Hey honey, can you bring me a venti iced matcha latte? Extra cold foam, no sugar, extra ice?]

He replied instantly: [Of course.]

The thought of my latte improved my mood significantly. I leaned back against the hospital pillows, scrolling through my phone.

The room was a high-end private suite. It was mid-afternoon, and the winter sun flooded the space, making me feel warm and pleasantly drowsy.

Then a thought hit me: I didn't even know what my boyfriend looked like.

What if he was hideous? We all know how love-blind people can be. I needed to check my photos while I was still "unbiased." If he was a troll, I was making a run for it.

...

I spent thirty minutes scrolling. Nothing. Out of ten thousand photos, five thousand were selfies. Two thousand were random stray cats. The remaining three thousand were meticulously filtered shots of brunch, pasta, and expensive cocktails.

God, Tess. You were really into yourself, weren't you?

Well, judging by my own face in these selfies, I had high standards. I probably wouldn't date someone ugly.

"Tess?"

I looked up. A tall, lean man in a white lab coat entered the room. He wore a mask, but his eyes were strikingsharp, intelligent, and framed by thick lashes.

He asked the standard questions. Does your head hurt? Any dizziness?

Then he leaned in. "How is the memory coming along? If the fog doesn't lift, we might need to consider... more aggressive therapies."

Images of electric shock therapy and forced lobotomies from old movies flashed through my mind. I waved my hands frantically.

"Its back! Its all back, Doctor! Seriously! I remember everything now. I feel great!"

"Is that so?" He tilted his head. "Then whats my name?"

I squinted at his ID badge. "Dr. Bennett. Why wouldn't I know that?"

His gaze lingered on mine. He looked so serious that my stomach twisted. Was I dying? Was he trying to find the words to tell me I had three days to live?

I clutched my chest. "Just give it to me straight, Doc. I can take it. Im a tough girl."

After a long silence, he pressed his lips together. "Well do one more check-up. If everything is clear, you can leave."

Jerk. Why make it so dramatic?

The doctor left, only to return an hour later with two other men in tow.

The man on the left was in a tailored navy suit. Powerful build, cold expression. He wore rimless glasses that made him look like a high-stakes attorney or a CEO who fired people for breakfast. He looked like he was vibrating with a controlled, low-frequency rage.

The other guy looked like hed just come from a racetrack. He was wearing a red-and-black racing suit, unzipped halfway to reveal a black compression shirt. His hair was a mess, and his eyesdark and slightly upturnedwere pinned on me like I was a target.

I froze. What was this? A lineup?

The doctors voice was flat. "Which one is your current boyfriend?"

I hate multiple-choice questions.

I pointed to the suit. He had "husband energy."

The doctors face fell. "Current. Boyfriend."

Wait, wrong? I looked at the racer. He looked like the kind of mistake a girl like me would make. I pointed to him.

"Current," the doctor repeated, his voice dropping an octave. "Boyfriend."

Was this a trick? Was it none of them? I pointed at the empty air between them.

The doctor let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Your. Current. Boyfriend."

I realized then, with a sinking feeling, that the right answer was in the room. I scanned them again. Then, trembling, I pointed to the man in the white coat.

Dr. Bennett pulled off his mask. His smile was chilling.

"Excellent. It turns out, baby, that besides me, there are actually three more."

My blood turned to ice.

There were only three men here. Where was the fourth? Waiting in the parking lot?

I didn't care. I needed to leave. If these three teamed up, they would ruin me.

I didn't even grab my shoes. I bolted for the window. We were on the second floor. I could make the jump.

I was fast. Before they could react, I was halfway out the ledge.

Below, a sleek convertible was parked with the top down. The keys were in the ignition, and the owner was nowhere to be seen. It was a sign from God. An escape vehicle.

Im jumping!

Thats when the text flickered in my eyes again:

[The villainess is finally doomed. Jump right into the hands of the fourth psycho. Hes going to lock you in a dark room and never let you out.]

[Ugh, I wish all four of them would just team up and break her already. Shes such a brat. If it weren't for her, our sweet Heroine would be living her best life by now.]

Shut up! Why tell me now? Im already in the air!

The wind roared in my ears. I saw the leather seats of the convertible rushing up to meet me.

The good news: I landed perfectly in the passenger seat.

The bad news: I was caught.

A hand, cold and incredibly strong, clamped around my wrist. I turned to see a man I hadn't noticed before. He was paleghostly paleand he was looking at me with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

I tried to scramble out, but his arms wrapped around me like iron bands.

"Got you."

I looked up at the hospital window. Three faces appeared in a row.

Dr. Bennett was already sprinting toward the stairs. The CEO in the suit had his jaw set so tight I thought his teeth might crack. The racer cursed loudly and looked like he was about to jump down after me.

But the man holding meKaeldidn't even look at them. He leaned over, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of my collarbone, a sharp, playful nip that made me shiver with terror.

"Lets go home."

He hit the ignition. The convertible top began to slide shut, cutting off the three pairs of murderous eyes watching us from above.