Six Years Living with a Fake Coward

1.

I never dreamed my husband, the man whose hands sweat just driving a car, could ever do such a thing. The day my sister Diana was kidnapped, he transformed. His usual timid demeanor vanished into frantic urgency. He only said, Wait at home, and rushed off. I thought he was calling the police.

Then I saw the news: police surrounding an abandoned factory, and a man driving an SUV straight through the gates. The camera zoomed in. It was clearly my husband, Matthew.

The report praised a retired special forces hero who rescued the hostages. Diana was safe. But watching it, I laughed a bitter laugh.

"You said driving made your hands shake," I challenged him. "When our daughter had a 104?degree fever, you refused to drive her to the hospital, afraid of an accident. Back then we had no money for her treatment. Now you crash a car with fifty thousand dollars to save someone else. What a hero."

Matthew stood speechless, stammering. Then Diana, leaning weakly against him, explained, "Dont blame him, Tiffany. Years ago, he accidentally hurt me in a car accident. After that, he promised he would only ever drive for me."

"Sis, you really shouldnt misunderstand him."

Inside the hospital room, Matthew grabbed my arm, wanting to speak to me outside.

"Say it right here!"

I fiercely shook off Matthew's hand, demanding an explanation. Matthew sighed.

"Don't misunderstand, I just I was afraid you'd become too dependent on me if you knew I was a retired special forces operative."

"I wasn't exactly hiding it, either. Why didn't you ask me?"

"Besides, what difference would it make if you knew? What could it change?"

Mom and Dad carefully adjusted Diana's blankets. Dad lowered his voice. "Your sister just fell asleep. Matthew's right. Why didn't you ask?"

"Matthew wasn't hiding anything from anyone. If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for not asking, for not caring about your own husband. Who are you blaming now?"

I looked at my uncomprehending parents, a bitter taste rising in my throat. Hadn't I cared enough about Matthew?

Matthew and I had been married for six years.

Matthew said he'd experienced a major earthquake while volunteering and suffered from PTSD. He was timid and easily scared, afraid to drive, afraid to go out at night, afraid to argue with anyone. He even feared going to crowded places to buy groceries.

I supported him for six years.

I worked three jobs a day, saving money to find Matthew the best therapist. I became a fierce lioness, holding our household together. When Matthew got into a fight and was taken to the precinct, I, heavily pregnant, knelt before the other party, begging for their understanding.

Because of an outsider's comment that Matthew was a kept man, I, fearing he'd overthink it, took all our savings to open a business for him. Even when the business failed completely, leaving us in debt, I didn't say a word.

Our daughter was frail, getting a fever every change of season. That night, her temperature soared to 104 degrees, but Matthew's hands trembled on the steering wheel. His PTSD was acting up, preventing him from driving. This was despite the fact that he had just driven for his nephew's parent-teacher conference that very afternoon.

I gritted my teeth, scooped up our daughter, and rushed to the hospital. But it was too late. Our daughter ended up in the ICU.

Matthew's eyes turned red with anger. He frowned deeply, then spoke through gritted teeth.

"You're so ungrateful. I saved your sister. Why are you so mad?"

"Can't I be mad?"

"I sold our house to pay for our daughter's medical bills, and you just conjure up fifty thousand dollars as a down payment?"

"You had money, but you wouldn't use it to treat our daughter. You took our marital assets and spent them on another woman. You pair of cheating dogs!"

My words grew uglier and uglier, fueled by the thought of our daughter, lying alone in her hospital room. My accusations silenced Mom and Dad.

Furious, Dad kicked me in the chest. For a moment, I felt a coppery taste well up in my throat. "What cheating dogs? That's your sister!"

"If you want to blame someone, blame us! Do you expect me to give you an IOU?"

"That money belongs to Matthew. What does it have to do with you?"

"Are you trying to disown us? You ungrateful daughter!"

"If you're so unhappy, then get a divorce!"

A chill spread through my heart.

"Divorce!"

Agreement: The Bitter Truth

Matthew no longer bothered to keep up the pretense. He parked his SUV casually downstairs, one hand on the steering wheel, the other flicking his burning cigarette out the window to extinguish it between his thumb and forefinger.

Matthew handed me a folder, instructing me to sign. "Diana was afraid you'd misunderstand and want a divorce, so she insisted I explain everything clearly."

I looked through the marital property agreement he handed me. Only then did I realize that my good-for-nothing husband was actually the big boss of an international security company, with countless properties and assets to his name.

"Honey, don't make a fuss. Our daughter has her own trust fund. She can access it after she turns eighteen. As long as she doesn't elope with a man at eighteen like you did, I guarantee she'll be financially secure for life!"

My fingertips, gripping the document, turned white. "I eloped at eighteen? Matthew, how shameless are you? I followed you when I was eighteen. You're saying I eloped at eighteen!"

"You're the shameless one, running off with me at eighteen!"

Matthew slammed his hand against the steering wheel.

He paused, a flicker in his eyes, avoiding my gaze. "That's not what I meant, don't misunderstand!"

My teeth ground together, and I spoke each word distinctly. "I'm not misunderstanding. I wasn't joking about the divorce. And my daughter doesn't need your trust fund."

"Let's get a divorce!"

Matthew clicked his tongue impatiently. "Why do you have to get a divorce? Yes, I kept it from you, but why didn't you ask me?"

"Our daughter has cerebral palsy. She can't take over my company!"

"My assets will still go to your family, won't they? They'll go to your sister's child!"

Matthew told me to be content. He said that not finding another woman to have children with was already a testament to his love for me. He said it was better to leave the company to my sister's child than to someone else.

"You and our daughter will still have someone to depend on later, right?"

After Matthew finished speaking, he seemed to be waiting for me to be utterly grateful to him. I refused to sign and didn't want to communicate with him anymore. I simply told him to wait for the court summons.

When I went to pick up our daughter, I found Diana and my nephew, Peter, there. Diana was six years older than me, but simply by appearance, an outsider would easily mistake me for the older sister. The dark green silk scarf she used to carry her Hermes bag was one I had always wanted but never bought.

I noticed the charm on Peter's backpack. It was a character from our daughter's favorite cartoon. When my daughter tugged at it a couple of times, Peter angrily stomped on the charm. "I broke it, and you still won't get it. I'll just have Uncle Matthew buy me another one!"

Diana offered an apologetic smile, but the look in her eyes felt like a challenge. "Matthew specially took Peter abroad to buy this birthday gift!"

Diana was there specifically to explain things to me. "Lily, Matthew rescued me because I'm a manager at his security company. I handle many important projects. I can't afford to have anything happen to me!"

"I'm not like a housewife such as yourself! I can help Matthew with his career!"

"Matthew never hid anything from you. Both Mom and Dad and I knew what Matthew did. You're the only one who didn't know. Why didn't you ever care about your husband?"

"He's a hero!"

"Matthew said he just didn't want you and your daughter to rely on him too much!"

Listening to Diana, I felt my heart clench, a searing pain gripping me. Matthew didn't want my daughter and me to rely on him. He pretended to be poor, deceiving me, making me live like a madwoman for six years.

"Get out!"

"Get as far away from me as possible!"

Before I could finish speaking, I heard Peter place my daughter's food bowl on the floor. He used a string to pull at her neck. My daughter choked and coughed, two distinct white marks appearing on her throat. He wanted her to eat like a dog on the floor.

"Puppy, come eat!"

"What are you doing?!"

In a panic, I pushed Peter, and he cried, scared by my intensity. Mom embraced Peter, comforting him. Dad said I was making a big deal out of nothing, targeting Peter, targeting Diana. My eyes burned with anger.

Matthew had appeared at the doorway at some point. Diana noticed Matthew's displeasure. My daughter, seeing her father, instinctively reached out her small hands.

"It's all my fault, all my fault. I didn't raise Peter well, and Peter doesn't have a dad to teach him!"

"Peter, apologize to Uncle Matthew quickly!"

Diana, her eyes red, apologized to Matthew. Matthew told me to let bygones be bygones.

Favoritism: Sisters at Odds

I filed for divorce in court and moved with my daughter into a small, dilapidated apartment. I had already consulted with a lawyer. Since our daughter was under three, custody would naturally go to me.

I scrolled through Diana's social media. Photos showed Diana and Matthew standing side by side, Mom and Dad on the sofa, holding Peter. It looked just like a young couple bringing their child to visit the grandparents. A relative commented, "Matthew is so filial, buying so many things again."

"Doesn't your sister ever visit your parents?"

Diana replied, "No, Tiffany is very busy. She has to take her child for physical therapy every week!"

"Filial or not, there are always excuses. Luckily, she married a good man! If it weren't for the elopement causing such a scandal, he would have been your husband."

"But either way, he's still family."

Diana's social media was no longer set to a three-day viewing limit. I scrolled through her posts, seeing snapshots of Matthew's life over the past six years.

As a son-in-law, Matthew was absolutely exemplary: celebrating birthdays with Mom and Dad, bringing gifts and transferring money for holidays. As a husband and father, he patiently tutored children, attended parent-teacher conferences, and stayed up all night with his wife when she needed an IV drip.

But that woman wasn't me. The people Matthew was filial to weren't my parents. I tightly hugged my daughter, tears streaming down my face.

Just after I commented on that post, Matthew's call came through. I took a deep breath, pressed the answer button, and deliberately let my voice sound husky from crying. "Hello?"

"Lily? What's the meaning of your comment? Diana is crying."

Matthew's voice carried suppressed anger. "I've already explained everything to you clearly. How can your mind be so twisted?"

"Are you implying Diana and I are having an affair?"

"I've set up a trust fund for our daughter, and I'll transfer money to you every month for household expenses. What more are you dissatisfied with?"

"You're a housewife, so don't meddle in company affairs."

"Delete that comment."

I scoffed internally, but on the surface, I feigned distress and panic. "I didn't. You were the one who hid marital assets first. Diana is draped in gold and silver, while I have to borrow money just to buy a bowl of noodles."

"You don't even allow me to vent my emotions?"

As I spoke, I quietly pressed the record button. I had just discovered when making a payment today that all my bank cards and payment accounts were frozen.

Silence stretched for a few seconds on the other end. After a while, Matthew sighed.

"Freezing your accounts was meant to make you calm down, to realize what hardships you'd face without me."

"Your accounts will be unfrozen in a while. Think it over and come back."

"From now on, I'll be your support."

Before hanging up, Matthew made me a promise. I found it utterly ridiculous. I hadn't relied on him since we got married. Matthew didn't spare a thought for how my daughter and I would live while my accounts were frozen. He didn't offer to bring us back either.

I knew he was taking Mom, Dad, Diana, and Peter on an overseas trip soon. Even if Mom and Dad weren't my biological parents anymore, my daughter and I couldn't stand in the way of his filial piety.