My Blind Husband Saw Everything

It was past 2:00 AM, and the city of Seattle was draped in a cold, relentless drizzle. I had just picked up a high-end designated driver request.

A young woman was sprawled across the backseat of a pristine Porsche, her phone held high as she FaceTimed someone. She looked like shed stepped out of a glossy magazineeffortless, expensive, and entirely oblivious to the world I inhabited.

I told you a used car would be fine for practice, she pouted into the screen, her voice a melodic whine. Why did you have to send a Porsche? I know youre a CEO and money is just a number to you, but I wanted to save up my own bride price before I officially said yes.

Her voice softened, honeyed with flirtation. She glanced toward the drivers seat and added, The driver is a woman, honey. Dont forget to leave her a massive tip later.

I caught her eye in the rearview mirror and offered a tight, professional smile. Inside, I felt a flicker of envy for that kind of sweet, uncomplicated arrogance.

As the GPS guided me toward the exclusive gated community on the outskirts of the city, I looked up at the towering wrought-iron gates. My heart stopped.

There, standing under the glow of a streetlamp, was a familiar silhouette.

Brian.

What was he doing here? Five years ago, a car accident had stolen his sight. He was supposed to be at the service dog training center, undergoing an intensive six-week program to bond with his new guide.

He didn't seem to notice the car. He was smiling, waving toward us with a precision that didn't match a man lost in darkness.

I parked the car, my movements mechanical, driven by years of muscle memory. My eyes were locked on the man illuminated by the headlights.

It was Brian Marcus.

He had the kind of bone structure that looked like it had been chiseled from marble, striking even in the shadows of the night. In the six years we had been together, I had traced every line of that face a thousand times. I couldn't be wrong.

He began to walk toward the car.

I opened my mouth to call his name, but the girl in the back beat me to it. She leaned out the window, her laughter bright and piercing.

Babe! I missed you so much!

The invisible thread holding my life together finally snapped.

Brian reached for the door handle, but it was locked. He rapped his knuckles against the drivers side window. Could you unlock the door, please?

I turned my head slowly. I saw his facecurious, impatientand I saw my own reflection in the glass. I was wearing a mask and thick-rimmed glasses, but they couldn't hide the hollow exhaustion etched into my skin. I looked like a ghost of the woman he used to love.

Ma'am? Unlock the door so my boyfriend can get in, the girl said, her voice rising with a hint of annoyance.

Sorry, I whispered, my voice raspy. I hit the unlock button.

The girl laughed again, a triumphant, airy sound. I bet youre shocked by how handsome he is, right? Last time I took him to dinner with my friends, they nearly fainted. They thought I was dating a movie star.

In our six years together, Brian had never met my friends.

Six years ago, when he was still the golden boy of the Marcus empire, he was too arrogant to bother. Then came the accidentthe night we tried to run away together. He had shielded me with his body, losing his sight in the process. After that, he became a recluse, too ashamed to be seen.

Stop talking nonsense, Brian said, his tone playful as he climbed in. You stayed out so late. How are you going to have the energy to try on wedding dresses tomorrow?

I couldn't just leave! It was my best friends birthday.

You have to try them on. I designed them myself. But remember, agreeing to the dress doesn't mean Ive officially accepted the proposal yet!

I wanted to scream. I wanted to demand answers. But the crushing weight of five years of double shiftsthe construction sites, the late-night bartending, the endless drivinghad paralyzed me. My throat felt like it had been cauterized shut.

Before the accident, Brian had been a rising star in the fashion world. He used to hold me and promise that when we married, he would design everythingthe gown, the rings, the life wed lead.

After he went blind, he never spoke of those dreams again. Or so I thought.

We reached the destinationa mansion in the hills. I got out to retrieve my folding electric scooter from the trunk. In the driveway, Brian wrapped his arms around the girl, pulling her close. She giggled and pushed him toward me.

Pay her, babe. Give her a good tip.

Brian didn't even spare me a glance. His eyesthose deep, dark eyes that were supposed to be vacantflickered with a cold indifference. Anything for you. But you better behave later tonight.

Youre so bad! she squealed.

My knees buckled. I nearly collapsed onto the pavement as I watched them walk into the house, arms entwined.

On my way back to the city, my phone chimed. A three-hundred-dollar tip had been added to the fare.

Three hundred dollars.

That could pay for six of Brians physical therapy sessions. It could mean I wouldn't have to pull an all-nighter for at least three days.

Then, another notification. A voice memo from Brian.

I cant sleep when youre not next to me, Winnie. I miss you.

I gripped the handlebars of my scooter so hard my knuckles turned white. My vision blurred.

A week ago, the guide dog foundation had finally called. After years on the waiting list, a dog was ready for us. Brian had been ecstatic, insisting on going to the training facility alone to build a bond with the animal.

I had worked myself to the bone for five years to afford this. I had turned our cramped rental into a sanctuary for a blind mansmart home voice commands, non-slip mats everywhere, padded corners on every piece of furniture. I had a pile of dog supplies waiting by the door.

But Brian wasn't blind.

He was lying in a silk-sheeted bed in a mansion, holding another woman, telling me he couldn't sleep without me.

At 4:00 AM, sleep was a foreign concept. My internal clock was shattered by years of graveyard shifts. I started packing.

It took less than thirty minutes. One suitcase held the entirety of my life for the last five years.

At 6:00 AM, I took the trash down and ran into my landlord, Mrs. Gable, walking her dog. I had messaged her about ending the lease, but she hadn't replied.

Moving out? Are you joking? Mrs. Gable looked at me with confusion. Your boyfriend bought this place five years ago.

I froze. I pulled out my phone and went to my messages with the "landlord."

Thats impossible. Ive been Venmoing rent every month. When I renovated the place for his accessibility, sheyoutold me it was an unauthorized modification and raised my rent.

Mrs. Gable shook her head, her expression shifting from confusion to a deep, pitying sympathy. Sweetie, thats not my number. After your boyfriend bought the unit, he asked me to give him your contact info. He told me hed handle everything from there.

The silence that followed was deafening. My phone felt like a hot coal in my hand.

The rent was 0-0,500 a month. Over five years, including the "penalties" for the renovations, I had paid back nearly 0-000,000. To him.

I was shaking so violently I had to gasp for air.

I don't get you kids, Mrs. Gable sighed. He has a car service pick him up every day. He bought this place in cash five years ago. If hes that loaded, why are you out there killing yourself working three jobs?

A car service? I whispered.

You didn't know? Well, I guess since you work all night, you wouldn't see him leave during the day.

The night shifts paid the most. I was usually home by 7:00 AM, stopping at the farmer's market to buy fresh produce for Brians meals. Id wake him up, help him wash, eat breakfast together, and then prep his lunch and dinner so he only had to heat them up.

We only had an hour or two of "together" time every day. He used to complain that I worked too much, that I didn't spend enough time with him.

I forced a smile. Thank you for telling me, Mrs. Gable.

Honey, take care of yourself. Youve got too much pride for your own good.

Pride? No. It wasn't pride.

Before the accident, I was a girl who didn't know how to boil an egg. I was a girl who only knew how to spend money. I looked down at my pajamasa set Brian had bought me five years ago. The colors were faded to a dull gray, the hem frayed and dragging.

They barely hid the slight curve of my stomach.

I had been waiting for him to come back from "training" to tell him about the pregnancy.

At 7:00 AM, I went to the market out of habit. The vendor handed me a bunch of green onions. No fish today?

I shook my head. Brian loved fish. I hated it. But after five years of deboning it for him, I had forgotten how to cook anything else.

When I got back to the apartment, the door was unlocked.

Brian was sitting on the sofa. When he heard me enter, he turned his head toward me. Winnie?

I didn't say a word. I just looked at him.

He wasn't wearing his sunglasses. His dark, almond-shaped eyes were vacant, staring at nothing. He stood up, reaching out tentatively, his movements perfectly mimicking the hesitation of a blind man.

His performance was so flawless it was terrifying. I couldn't even tell when his sight had returned.

Winnie? he called again. He was only six feet away now.

Why are you back? I asked. My voice was dead.

Brian faltered, a look of practiced vulnerability crossing his face. You didn't reply to my message last night. I was worried sick. I was afraid something happened to you.

He moved toward me, his brow furrowed with a concern that looked so real it made me sick.

In this apartment, over the last five years, I had been hit by a car while delivering food. I had been harassed by drunks while driving. I had been cheated by contractors. In the beginning, I used to call him, sobbing, looking for comfort.

But then he got into a minor accident trying to "find" me in the dark. He had made everything worse.

The other driver had screamed at him, calling him a "useless cripple" who should be kept on a leash. I had jumped in, fighting the man until the police came. We paid a fortune in a settlement.

After that, Brian cried for days, saying he was a burden, that he should just leave so I could have a real life. I had held him, begged him to stay, and promised I would take care of everything.

I learned to handle the world alone so he wouldn't have to. And all the while, he was watching.

Im fine, I said coldly. Do you need me to drive you back to the training center?

He sensed the shift in my tone and grabbed my hand. Youre upset. Did something happen at work? Winnie, lets stop the treatments. Don't push yourself so hard. I don't care if I never see again, as long as I have you.

The same script. I had heard it a thousand times. And for the first time, it tasted like poison.

I started laughing. Hard. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. How long were you planning to keep this up?

The rage, five years in the making, finally erupted. I lunged forward and slapped him across the face.

Suddenly, a gust of wind seemed to hit me from behind. A massive force slammed into my side, throwing me to the floor. A searing pain exploded in my abdomen. I curled into a ball, gasping.

You bitch! a voice shrieked. No wonder you were staring at my boyfriend last night. Youre the little 'charity case' living in his apartment!

Brians eyes widened. He froze, his hand halfway to reaching for me. Paige? What are you doing here?

Paige rushed to his side, cradling his face. You told me you had a tenant who was stalking you! I saw the message she sent last night about moving out. I came here to give her a piece of my mind, and I find her hitting you?

She looked at me with pure venom. We should call the cops. Lock this old hag up! Look at his faceits already swelling. Did she try to force herself on you because you're 'blind'?

She raised her foot to kick me. Brian grabbed her waist, pulling her back.

Ill handle it, Paige. Ill make sure she pays. Go downstairs and wait for me. We have an appointment, remember?

Paige huffed, gave me one last look of disgust, and slammed the door.

Brian sighed, his voice returning to that smooth, aristocratic lilt. Paige is young and impulsive. Don't take it personally.

He turned to follow her. I reached out with the last of my strength and grabbed his pant leg.

Hospital please

Winnie, stop the drama, he said, shaking me off. Youre a tough girl. Youve survived worse than a little fall. Ill come back later and explain everything.

The door clicked shut.

I tried to reach for my phone, but my fingers cramped with pain. Darkness swarmed my vision, and the world went black.

When I woke up, it was night. The agonizing pain had faded into a dull, hollow ache. I was soaked in a cold sweat.

I looked down. There was blood on the non-slip mats I had installed for him.

My phone screen lit up in the dark.

It was a photo from Paige. She was in a lace wedding gown, her arm looped through Brians. They were both beaming at the camera.

Give it up, grandma. Youre not some young starlet anymore. Did you really think a man like him would ever actually want you?

Were getting married. Get out of his apartment, or Ill make sure you regret it.

I tried to breathe, but my lungs felt like they were filled with lead. Suddenly, the front door swung open.

Why is there still a woman in here?

Men in jumpsuits walked in carrying cleaning supplies and tools.

Ignore her. The owner said we only have six hours to gut the place. If we aren't done, we don't get paid.

They began tearing down the smart-home sensors. They ripped up the mats. They threw my suitcase into the hallway.

I watched, clutching my chest, until my heart simply stopped fighting.