I Heard My Husband Kill Me

My husband is a Novel Traveler. He doesnt belong to this world. He was sent here by a System with a singular mission: to win the heart of the storys secondary lead, Lydia.

But the moment he arrived, he fell for me instead. I was the Main Character of this reality, and every time he felt a spark of love for me, the System punished him with a high-voltage electric shock.

He had been shocked nine hundred and ninety-nine times for loving me.

Then, I was kidnapped by a paramilitary insurgent group. I was electrocuted, held in a flooded cellar, and had iron spikes driven through my limbs. In the depths of my despair, I remembered a trick Arthur had taught mea way to mentally bridge into his System interface.

I connected. But instead of a rescue plan, I heard Arthurs voice, cold and detached, talking to the System.

"Host, how could you personally strike a deal with those terrorists?" the Systems mechanical voice crackled. "Youre letting them break her. Shes your wife."

"This trauma was written into Lydias arc," Arthur replied, his voice like ice. "To save Lydia from this fate, I had no choice but to let June take her place."

"June is the protagonist. she has 'plot armor.' No matter how much they break her, she wont die. Once this scenario is over, Ill have enough points to stay in this world forever. Ill spend the rest of my life making it up to her."

My heart didn't just break; it shattered.

As the men in the shadows moved toward me again, I stopped fighting. I let go.

"Damn, this ones a prize," one of them spat.

At his signal, the cramped, humid room filled with shadows. I was pinned to a makeshift cot, long iron spikes driven through my hands and feet. The slightest twitch sent white-hot agony through my nervous system, let alone the brutal movements of the men.

The bed groaned rhythmically. The stench of sweat, unwashed bodies, and cheap tobacco filled my lungs. Through the haze of pain and the sound of heavy breathing, I heard Arthurs voice in my head again.

"How many?"

The Systems voice was trembling. "The eighth one just finished. Arthur, something is wrong. Junes vitals are dropping. Tell them to stop."

"No!" Arthurs bark echoed in my mind. "In the original script, Lydia was assaulted ten times. If June is taking her place, the count has to be exact. Not one less."

The words felt like a plunge into a frozen lake.

Two months ago, a lethal virus had broken out in this regiona strain so aggressive that victims rarely lasted seventy-two hours. As an infectious disease specialist, I had volunteered for the medical relief mission.

Arthur had insisted on coming along, claiming he couldn't bear the thought of me in danger. I actually believed he was protecting me. Now I realized he had been architecting this nightmare for two months.

Another man entered. I felt nothing but a hollow, vibrating numbness.

Suddenly, a sharp, cramping pain bloomed in my lower abdomen. It was different from the external woundsa deep, visceral tearing.

The man on top of me stopped abruptly, swearing in a local dialect. "What the hell is this?"

Another man leaned over, his voice dropping an octave. "It's a child. Shes miscarrying."

The room went silent. The weight lifted off me as the man scrambled back. Even these monsters, it seemed, had a limit when faced with the sight of a dying womb.

My mind went blank. Tears, hot and silent, finally began to track through the dirt on my face.

As a doctor, I knew. I had known for weeks.

We had been married for three years. Every night, he wanted me. When I was too exhausted, he would wrap his arms around my waist and whisper that back in his "original world," he was an orphan. His only dream was a family. Now that he had me, his only remaining wish was a child.

I had spent months conditioning my body, taking vitamins, tracking cycles. Three months ago, I finally conceived.

I hadn't found the right moment to tell him before the insurgents raided our camp.

"Host, thats nine. No one else will touch her," the Systems voice broke the silence in my mind. I realized the connection was still live.

"Why not?" Arthur demanded, his voice impatient.

The Systems mechanical tone held a note of genuine horror. "Because during the ninth encounter, June... she lost the baby."

"Dont tell me the details! I cant handle it!" Arthur roared, his voice thick with a performative kind of rage.

"Im telling you her condition is critical," the System replied.

Arthur went silent. For a heartbeat, I thought he might finally break character. I thought he might come for me. Then, he spoke, and the words sliced through whatever was left of my soul.

"If the men wont finish it, find a dog."

The System let out a sharp, digital gasp. "Host, this is too much. June has done nothing wrong. Why should she suffer Lydias destiny?"

"You think shes the only one suffering? My heart is dying with every second!" Arthurs voice cracked with a twisted sense of martyrdom. "But what choice do I have? If Lydia doesn't survive her 'canon' events, the story collapses and Im pulled out of this world. One last time. Just one more trauma, then have them inject the viral sample. Then I can 'rescue' her and be the hero."

His voice faded like a dying wind.

The door creaked open. When I saw the massive, half-starved hound they dragged in, I closed my eyes.

Everything went exactly according to Arthurs plan.

When the weight finally left me, the room fell into a terrifying silence. I forced myself to look down. There, on the blood-slicked concrete, was a tiny, translucent shape.

My baby.

I dragged my broken limbs across the floor, the spikes grinding against the stone, until I could pull that tiny piece of myself into my arms.

Grief didn't just wash over me; it drowned me.

Then, a shadow fell over the threshold. A man entered holding a syringe. He didn't look at me as he slid the needle into my vein. The liquid was ice-cold.

Id spent three months studying this pathogen. I knew exactly what it was: the raw, concentrated viral strain, likely harvested from a fresh corpse.

At this concentration, without the synthesized antidote, I would be dead within twenty-four hours.

The irony was that I had already developed the antidote. I just hadn't published the findings yet. I thought the insurgents had taken me for my research. Now I knew the truth.

This was all for Lydia. Arthur had once told me he was sent to "save" her. After we married, he was always "helping" her, trying to nudge her fate. I used to pick fights about it.

He would always look at me with those puppy-dog eyes and say, "June, she means nothing to me. Im only doing this for our future."

Our future.

The door was kicked open with a thunderous crash. Seconds later, I was pulled into a tight, trembling embrace.

The scent of Arthurs expensive colognesandalwood and citrushit me. It used to be the smell of safety. Now, it made my skin crawl.

"June! Oh god, June, Im here. Im so sorry. Im so sorry you went through this."

I let him hold me. I stared over his shoulder with dead eyes, my heart a blackened husk of rage. I forced my voice to sound thin and fragile.

"Arthur... you have the System. Why did it take so long?"

He stiffened. "The interface... it glitched. Its all my fault. But don't worry, honey. I don't care about what happened here. I don't think you're 'dirty.' Ill heal you. Were going to a hospital right now."

He draped his designer suit jacket over my broken, bloodied body. As he lifted me, he hissed to his armed guards, "Leave no one alive."

I was rushed to the field hospital. My colleagues, seeing me in that state, were horrified. Even the most battle-hardened trauma surgeons gasped when they saw the spikes.

They pulled twenty-four iron nails out of my body.

After the surgery, I was moved to a private ward. Ive always had a high tolerance for anesthesia; I was awake, but I kept my eyes squeezed shut. I couldn't bear to look at him.

I listened as the nurses whispered to him about my injuries. Arthur played the part of the grieving, devoted husband perfectly. He stroked my cheek, whispering, "June, Ill never let anyone hurt you again."

In another life, I would have wept with gratitude. Now, I just felt a surge of bile in my throat.

A few hours later, the door clicked open. A voice I loathed drifted in.

"Arthur. Im here."

Lydia.

"Inject the sedative now," Arthur said, his voice dropping the grieving-husband act. "The jet is ready. You can be back in the States in two hours."

Lydia stepped closer. I heard the rustle of her silk blouse. "Arthur, come with me. Please."

"I have to stay and look after June for a bit," he replied.

"But Im scared," she pouted, her voice honey-sweet and manipulative. "Its so dangerous here."

Arthur paused. "Fine. Ill come."

He had always told me he felt nothing for her. Yet he never said no. He never used a harsh tone with her. I used to tell myself he was just "playing the game" for the System.

I was done lying to myself.

Arthur stepped out to finalize the flight manifest. Lydia walked over to my bed. She didn't offer comfort. Instead, she pressed a manicured finger into my surgical incision.

"Stop faking," she hissed.

I opened my eyes and looked at her.

She sneered. "Look at you, June. Ten men? I heard the stories. How do you even have the nerve to still be breathing?"

I forced a cold smile. "Even so, Arthur isn't divorcing me to marry you, is he?"

Her face contorted. "So what? Hes already disgusted by you. Do you know why he sent me in here?"

She leaned down, her breath smelling of peppermint. "He knows you don't respond to standard anesthesia. He told me to inject you with a heavy-duty sedative so youll sleep through the next few hours. While youre out, hes going to announce that my team discovered the cure for the virus. Your cure."

"What?" My heart hammered against my ribs.

That antidote was the result of twenty people working twenty-hour shifts for months. It was our legacy. For many of my junior doctors, it was their only ticket out of poverty and into prestigious fellowships.

"How dare you," I wheezed, trying to sit up.

Lydia didn't bother arguing. She pulled a syringe from her bag and jammed it into my IV line.

"June, from today on, everything that was yours belongs to me. Including Arthur."

The drug Lydia gave me didn't work the way she wanted. Within an hour, I was jolted awake by a searing fever.

The room was empty. Arthur and Lydia were gone.

A colleague, Becca, was checking my vitals. She looked like shed been crying.

"Where is he?" I asked.

"Arthur went to the airport," Becca said, biting her lip. "Dr. Valentine... the test results came back. Youve been infected with the concentrated strain."

I nodded slowly. "I know. I thought... I thought Arthur gave me the antidote when we arrived."

Beccas face went pale. "There is no antidote left in the hospital, June. As soon as the 'official' announcement was made, all the stock was packed up and moved to the capital for the press junket. We don't have a single vial here."

The world tilted. Without the serum, I was a dead woman walking.

"Theres a flight to the capital in an hour," Becca said urgently. She and two orderlies helped me into a wheelchair and rushed me to the airport.

But when we got there, the commercial airline refused to board me. "Too high risk," the gate agent said. "We can't have a Bio-Level 4 patient on a commercial craft."

Desperate, Becca spotted Arthurs private jet on the tarmac. He used it to fly in suppliesand to visit me.

She ran toward him as he stood by the boarding stairs. She explained everything. She begged him to take me to the capitala twenty-minute flightto get the medicine.

Arthur didn't even look at the ambulance idling nearby. He checked his watch. "Im taking Lydia home. I don't have time for this."

Becca was stunned. "But June is dying! Shes your wife!"

Arthur frowned, looking annoyed. "Stop the drama, Rebecca. I saw Lydia give her the injection myself."

He looked past the crowd, catching my eye for a fleeting second. "June, I know youre jealous. But this isn't the time for a stunt. Ill come back for you after I drop Lydia off. Just wait for me."

He turned and walked up the stairs, Lydia trailing behind him.

My heart felt like it was being physically crushed. I knew he was "misunderstanding" on purpose. He wanted me out of the way for the press conference.

But I was actually dying.

"Arthur!" I screamed, the effort tearing at my throat.

He paused at the door of the plane.

"Please," I sobbed. "Just take me to the city. I want to live. I don't want to die."

For a second, his mask slipped. A flicker of genuine pain crossed his eyes. He took a step back down the stairs.

Then Lydia let out a sharp cry and collapsed onto the cabin floor.

Arthurs instinctsor the Systems programmingkicked in. He dove toward her, scooping her up. The last thing he said before the cabin door hissed shut was: "Youll be fine, June. Ill be back."

The engines roared. The jet climbed into the sky, taking my last hope with it.

I watched the silver speck vanish into the clouds. A strange calm washed over me. The pressure in my chest became unbearable. I opened my mouth to breathe, but only blood came out.

"Blood! Shes hemorrhaging!" Becca screamed.

They tried to resuscitate me right there on the terminal floor. But we all knew it was over.

With my last ounce of strength, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small, blood-stained handkerchief containing the remains of my child, and a digital recorder. I pressed them into Beccas hands.

"Give these... to Arthur," I whispered.

In that final moment, a voice echoed in the voidnot Arthurs, but the Systems.

[Notice: Primary Female Lead has been terminated. Recalibrating... New Female Lead: Lydia Mercer.]