Dear Husband, We were never Married!

“I’m sorry, Miss Nadine Smith, but we can’t issue a copy of this marriage certificate because you were never legally married to Mr. Scott Jones.”

I blinked at the woman behind the counter. I clutched my hands together until my nails dug into my palms.

“That’s… that’s not possible. I’m Mrs. Nadine Jones. I just need a reprint. I accidentally spilled coffee all over the old copy when I was cleaning my husband Scott's office.”

The clerk’s polite smile never faltered. She pushed her glasses up her nose, tapped a few keys, and turned the screen slightly my way — a blur of lines and legal text I couldn’t focus on. “Miss Smith. ”

I felt my breath catch. My tongue felt too big for my mouth. “No. You don’t understand. He told me he registered it after the church ceremony was postponed. He showed me the certificate. I’ve been living with him for three years. We’re married.”

Her voice softened, like she was explaining something to a child who couldn’t grasp their numbers yet. “Miss Smith, I can’t change what the records say. Mr. Jones is married but not to you. He’s been legally married for three years to a woman named Jasmine Rivera. Does that name mean anything to you?”

My knees nearly buckled. Jasmine. Of course I knew her. How could I not? She was my best friend. So, how come?

I stumbled away from the counter, mumbling something that probably sounded like thank you but tasted like acid in my mouth.

I don’t even remember how I got home. One moment I was standing there with my world split open like rotten fruit, the next I was climbing the marble stairs of Scott’s estate on autopilot, my palms still sticky from gripping the steering wheel too hard.

Three years ago, I was supposed to marry Scott in that white church on the hill. My mother had picked the flowers. Jasmine had helped me choose the dress. And then the news came: Jasmine had been pushed from a rooftop by one of Scott’s enemies who’d wanted to hurt him and they thought she was me. They thought she was the woman he truly loved. But she wasn’t supposed to be there. It was supposed to be me.

She survived, if you can even call it that. I still see her lying on those silk sheets, eyes halfopen but never seeing. Her brother Condor moved into the estate too because he was also sick. Scott said we owed it to her. I believed him. I believed everything he told me.

I spent three years nursing my best friend, scrubbing her skin with warm cloths, combing out the tangles in her hair. Feeding her, talking to her, praying she’d come back to me. I cooked for Scott, smiled when he kissed my forehead, accepted that he couldn’t touch me more because he was stressed. I believed I was his wife. I let him show me that piece of paper and never questioned it again.

Stupid. So stupid.

I was halfway down the hallway when I heard their voices — Scott’s low, calm baritone and Condor’s quieter hum. The door to the study was cracked open. I should’ve walked away. Instead I froze.

“…I really want to thank you for everything, Scott. For Jasmine. For me,” Condor was saying.

“Come on, Condor,” Scott said, that warm laugh I used to believe in. “You know how much I love your sister. Not a day goes by I don’t regret what happened. It wasn’t supposed to be her who got pushed. It was supposed to be Nadine. That’s why I married her — to fool them into thinking she was the one I loved. To keep the enemy away from Jasmine.”

My breath snagged in my throat. I pressed my back to the cold wall. My ears rang so loudly I almost didn’t hear Condor’s next question.

“What if Nadine finds out? What if she leaves?”

Scott scoffed. “Nadine? She’ll never find out. She doesn’t even know our marriage is fake. And even if she did… she loves me too much to ever leave. You know she followed me for twenty years? Like a lost puppy. I pitied her. That’s why I decided to use her. So I married her.”

I don’t know how long I stood there. Long enough to feel my face go numb, my legs go weak. I stumbled down the hallway like a ghost in my own house. Not mine, I corrected myself. Nothing here was mine. Not even him.

When I reached my room, I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I picked up my phone, fingers shaking so hard I almost dropped it twice. I scrolled to the only number that mattered now.

My mother’s voice answered on the second ring. “Nadine? Sweetheart? What is it?”

“Mom,” I said, my voice so calm it scared me. “About the marriage you were arranging for me before… the one I turned down because I said I loved Scott?”

“Yes…?”

“Arrange it again,” I whispered, my throat raw, my heart breaking wide open for the last time. “I’m coming home. Please. I’m done here.”

“Please… arrange it. I want it now. And I’m coming home, too.”

On the other end of the line, my mother went quiet. I could hear the faint clink of her bracelet, the rustle of her silk robe — it all felt so far away, like another world.

“What do you mean, Nadine? You chased Scott Jones for ten years,” she hissed, disbelief cracking through her calm tone. “You begged me to stop that arrangement back then because you said you loved him. And now what? You want me to fix this marriage you rejected so stubbornly?”

“I was mistaken,” I said, my throat raw. I sank onto the edge of my bed, knees shaking. “I want to leave, Mom. Please. Have that man you wanted me to marry come pick me up. One week. That’s all I’m asking for.”

“That’s so fast, darling.” Her voice softened, like I was fifteen again, crying into her lap after Scott ignored me at prom. “What happened? Did you two fight? What about the divorce? Did he sign the papers?”

I laughed, a dry, empty sound. “No need for that. I was never married.”

Before she could say anything else, I hung up. I didn’t want to hear her pity or her scolding. I just wanted it to be done.

When I turned around, my blood froze in my veins. Scott stood at the door, his arms crossed, eyes dark and narrowed.

His shadow fell across the carpet like a stormcloud. “What the hell was that, Jasmine?”

My stomach twisted. Jasmine. He couldn’t even get my name right sometimes. “Who were you talking to? What do you mean you were never married? Huh?” He took a step forward, voice rising. “What’s this now? Are you being dramatic again? Is this because I didn’t agree to that stupid anniversary trip you kept begging about?”

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. He stalked closer, his tone softening just enough to make my skin crawl. “Didn’t I say we can’t go right now? Your best friend is in a coma. Her brother is still paralyzed. You have to take care of them, we have to. Once Jasmine wakes up, we’ll go. I promise, baby. We’ll go see the aurora borealis together. Wouldn’t you love that?”

His words slithered around me like a snake I’d let coil around my neck for years. I saw it all now — how Jasmine was always there between us. Always. Even before the coma. Even before the rooftop. In high school, I thought she was helping me get closer to him. Writing my letters. Handing him my gifts. But she was the one he’d call at night. The one he’d smile at when he thought I wasn’t looking. My best friend — my betrayal wrapped in a ribbon.

I must’ve been staring too long because Scott’s voice snapped like a whip. “What? Who are you talking to in that head of yours? Are you insulting me now? Say something!”

My eyes burned as tears finally spilled over. I didn’t even try to wipe them away. He paused, his anger shifting into that pathetic, boyish panic he always used to reel me back in. “Oh God, baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout. I hate seeing you cry. You know that, right? You’re hurting me when you cry like this…”

He pulled me into his arms, his hand sliding behind my neck like it always did when he kissed me. His lips brushed mine but I felt nothing. Nothing but disgust. Once, I would’ve melted. Once, I would’ve forgiven everything with just this. But now?

Now I knew what that kiss really cost me.

I pulled back, my voice flat. “I have a stomachache.”

He frowned, brushing a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “A stomachache? That’s all? Why didn’t you say so? I’ll call the driver. We’ll get you to the hospital right now.”

He pressed his phone to his ear, barking orders like he always did. I stood there like a ghost, watching him fuss, trying to remember when I ever felt safe in his care.

We drove in silence for a while. He held my hand, tracing circles on my skin that made my stomach twist. For a second, I almost believed it — this little lie that he cared. But then his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and just like that, I vanished from his mind.

“What? Jasmine’s awake?” His eyes lit up in a way I’d never seen before — not for me. “Turn the car around. We need to go back. I have to be there. She’ll want to see me.”

I stared at him. “What about me? I’m sick, Scott.”

He looked at me like I was an insect crawling across his precious floor. “It’s just a stomachache, Nadine. Don’t be dramatic. Driver, pull over.”

The car slowed to the side of the road. Scott opened the door and practically shoved me out. The rain started in slow, icy drops that slid down my neck.

“Take this,” he said, tossing his black credit card at my feet like a bone for a starving dog. “Get a taxi to the hospital. You’ll be fine.”

“Scott—”

“Stay here,” he snapped at me, and then he was gone. The door slammed. The car sped away into the night — back to Jasmine. Back to the woman he always loved.

I stood there on the side of the road, my hair plastered to my face, my hands clutched to my chest. The rain soaked through my coat in seconds. I could feel the cold all the way to my bones.

I closed my eyes and whispered to the darkness, “Just one more week. One more week… and I’ll be free.”

I remembered riding the taxi that night, the cold seat sticking to my soaked clothes. I didn’t even have the energy to cry anymore. I just wanted to get to the hospital, check my stomach, and try to feel like a human being again.

But halfway through the ride, the driver glanced back at me with a strange smile, and before I could ask anything, I heard a hiss.

A sharp, chemical smell flooded my nose.

I coughed. “What are you—”

And then everything went dark.

When I woke up, my head was spinning and my body felt like it was made of lead. My wrists were bruised and tied behind me. My legs ached. My back was cold against concrete.

Where am I? The room was dim and smelled like rust and old oil — a warehouse. Somewhere abandoned. Somewhere no one would find me.

Footsteps echoed.

“WWhat’s happening?” I croaked, my throat dry, voice barely audible.

One of the men walked up to me, face partially masked. “Shut up. You’re awake. Good. Call Scott.”

“Why?” I rasped, trembling.

“Because your dear husband owes us money. He used us, promised deals, deals he never fulfilled. He’s a liar. Now he has to pay.”

“I—I don’t understand,” I whispered. “I didn’t do anything. I’m not part of this—”

“Yeah?” The man snarled. “Then why did he send his own wife instead of meeting us? Huh?”

I froze. Wife. I wasn’t even legally married to him.

“But I’m not—” I stopped myself. They wouldn’t believe me anyway.

“No, I won’t believe you now,” the other guy muttered. “We got the wrong girl three years ago that is why you live but we won’t let you now…”

I blinked. So it was Scott’s fault. Everything. Jasmine being pushed. Me being kidnapped. All tied to the lies he fed these people. And now I was the collateral damage.

“Call him,” they barked. “Now.”

My fingers were shaking as I dialed.

He answered on the second ring.

“Scott,” I cried. “Help me—please. I’ve been kidnapped, I’m hurt—”

“Oh my god,” he sighed. “Seriously? Nadine? This again?”

“What—what are you talking about?” I whispered, heart plummeting.

“I’m taking care of Jasmine right now,” he snapped. “Don’t start with your attentionseeking stuff. Just get back here. She needs food. You should be helping instead of playing games.”

Then the line cut.

I stared at my phone in disbelief.

The men heard it. “Tch. Worthless,” one said, before slapping me across the face. “It seems it was truly Jasmine, so what are you?”

I felt my lip split.

Me? I guess… nothing.

Still, they didn’t let me go. They started torturing me and I heard they would kill me so that Scott would know his place. I could only cry for help… but none came.

The next thing I remembered was being dumped in front of the hospital like trash.

When I woke again, I was in a bed. The air smelled sterile. The fluorescent lights stung my eyes.

“Don’t move too much,” a nurse said gently. “You lost a lot of blood.”

I blinked slowly, my voice hoarse. “What… happened?”

“You were found unconscious and bruised. Someone called it in anonymously. But…” she hesitated.

“But what?” I asked.

“I’m sorry to inform you… you lost the baby.”

“…What?”

I stared at her, unmoving.

“You were three months pregnant.”

I swallowed hard. “I didn’t even know,” I whispered. “I didn’t know because I’m… I’m always irregular.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Do you want me to call someone for you?”

“My phone,” I muttered.

She handed it over.

It was still working. I stared at the screen. Still no messages. No calls.

I tried calling Scott again. Voicemail.

I stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours.

Then, hungry and weak, I pushed myself up and wandered the halls in my hospital gown. I passed a nurses’ station, then a quiet corridor.

Then I heard a voice I hadn’t heard in three years.

Jasmine.

“…didn’t I tell you to kill her? Why is she still alive?” she hissed.

My heart dropped.

“I’m awake now. So she should be dead. Why is she even in this hospital?” she snapped.

“She was saved,” the man replied. “Some guys showed up. We didn’t expect it. We had to run.”

I stumbled back a step.

Saved? Someone saved me?

But who?

“Do it properly next time,” Jasmine ordered coldly. “And never show your face to me again unless I call you and never tell anyone about this! Got it?”

Footsteps. I backed up quickly, hiding behind a corner as the man exited. I was shaking.

Then—

“There you are!”

I spun around.

Scott.

Beaming.

“Great, you’re here already!” he said, like we were just bumping into each other in a mall. “Jasmine’s so excited to see you. She wants her usual milk tea from that café you love. Could you go get it for her?”

I blinked at him.

Did he not see my bandages?

Did he not care?

“No,” I said quietly.

“What?” His smile faded. “What do you mean no?”

“I don’t want to.”

His brow furrowed. “Are you disobeying me now? What’s this all about?”

“You’re disobeying me now?” he repeated.

Scott’s voice snapped at my ear like a whip. His eyes were wide with disbelief, the kind that made me want to laugh if I wasn’t so exhausted.

“No,” I said, my throat raw. “I’m just tired. I got hurt, Scott. Didn’t I call you?”

His expression flickered — the mask slipping back into place, the apologetic husband, the sweet savior he liked to play for everyone else’s benefit.

“Oh, baby, I thought you were joking,” he crooned, stepping forward, brushing a hand down my cheek as if that would wipe away the bruises I still felt on my ribs.

“Why didn’t you tell me again? Where are you hurt? We’ll find who did this to you, huh? They’ll pay. You should lie down. I’ll take care of you—”

A sharp scream cut through the corridor.

“Help! Scott!” Jasmine’s voice — sharp, desperate.

I didn’t even get to feel what betrayal tasted like because Scott didn’t spare me another glance. He spun on his heel like I wasn’t even there. “Jasmine! I’m here! I’m coming!” I heard him shout as he disappeared into her room.

All I could do was stand there, staring at the empty space where he’d just been. Then I laughed. A bitter sound, more air than humor. I didn’t know whether I was laughing at him or myself anymore.

From the room, I could hear him: “It’s okay, Jasmine, I’m here. I’ll call the doctor, don’t worry.” Then, loud enough for the whole hallway to hear: “Nadine! Call the doctor!”

Like I was a maid. Like I wasn’t the woman who’d wasted years pretending to be his wife. I turned to walk away but Jasmine’s weak, syrupy voice called out, “Nadine! Wait, please come here!”

Before I knew it, I was at her bedside, staring down at her delicate, porcelaindoll face, the one that had always won people over so easily.

“Oh, my best friend,” she sighed dramatically. “I missed you so much. Scott told me everything, about how you’ve been taking care of me, and my brother, the house… thank you. Thank you for everything you’ve done while I was gone… and now I’m here.”

The words tasted rotten.

My hand moved before my brain could stop it. I pushed her shoulder — not hard, but enough for her to stumble back against the pillows.

She gasped. “Sister… what did I do? Why did you push me?” She looked at Scott, wideeyed.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Scott rounded on me, fury making his neck flush red. “Didn’t you see she’s still weak? She could’ve fallen! She’s hurt!”

I laughed dryly. “I’m hurt too, remember? Or did you forget? I didn’t push her. She pressed against me. It hurts.”

Scott’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t even say sorry nicely? Jasmine’s always been good to you—”

“Scott, don’t say that to my best friend,” Jasmine cut in with her soft, trembling voice, tears brimming like an actress on cue. “I didn’t know she was hurt. Nadine, I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me.”

Scott folded his arms, the decision made. “Apologize to her, Nadine.”

“No,” I whispered.

His eyes darkened. “Then you’re leaving me no choice. I’ll lock you up in our house until you learn how to respect your own family.”

I felt the laugh bubbling up but it came out as a scoff instead. I could see it so clearly now — how he had shown me his true face the moment Jasmine opened her eyes. I was nothing again. Less than nothing.

“Lock me up then,” I muttered. I looked him straight in the eye. “You never even cared that I lost our child.”

His face twisted, not understanding the last words I said. “What did you say?”

But I was already walking away. He never cared to follow because Jasmine told him to let me go… I was just mad and would be okay in a while.

Well, I would never be okay.

When I got home, I went straight to the little altar I’d built for my father — and now, my baby. I lit a candle for the child I’d never get to meet, my hand steady even as the tears blurred my vision.

The ping of my phone startled me. It was my mother: Everything will be prepared in three days. The helicopter will be waiting with your fiance. Come home.

I clutched the phone to my chest and nodded to no one but myself. Three more days. That was all I had to survive.

Hours later, Scott came back. He didn’t even glance at the candle burning for our child. Of course he didn’t. He just looked at me with that fake, exhausted smile, and said, “I’m sorry, baby. I overreacted earlier. Jasmine wants a banquet tomorrow. You’ll handle it, right?”

I laughed but it came out cracked and raw. “Tomorrow? That’s impossible.”

His smile vanished. “I’m not asking if you can do it. I’m telling you to do it.”

Jasmine appeared behind him, wrapping her frail arms around his waist. “Scott, it’s okay… we can do it next week—”

“No. It has to be now,” Scott said. “Everyone must know you’re alive. They won’t dare touch you again.” His eyes cut to me. “Nadine will handle it.”

And that was that. They left me there — like a servant — to make call after call, pulling favors, arranging everything for the woman who’d ordered me dead.

I didn’t sleep that night. I didn’t dare. I worked until my fingers were raw, the candle at my father’s altar burning down to a stub.

Hours before dawn, I passed their bedroom. The door was ajar and the soft sound of moaning spilled into the hallway.

I stood there for a moment. I didn’t cry. There were no tears left for them.

I went to my room, pulled out the wedding gown I never wore. The ring he gave me and the copy of their marriage certificate. I dropped them in a box, along with a note about the baby he’d never cared to meet.

I scheduled the delivery for our wedding anniversary, no, their wedding anniversary — the same day I’d disappear forever.

When I finally drifted off, I barely heard Scott come in. He went straight for the vase my father made before he died — the last piece I had left.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll have this. Jasmine wants it.”

“No,” I whispered. “Please, Scott, not that. That’s all I have left of my father. You know that! Why are you giving it to Jasmine?”

He didn’t even look at me. “Because she said she wants it and she'll give it to the doctor who had operated on her as a thank you because she was great now. It’s just a vase, Nadine. You have plenty.”

When I reached for it, he shoved me aside. I hit the floor, biting back a cry.

He never even looked back.

The day of the banquet was almost beautiful, if you ignored the fact that I was nothing more than their welldressed maid.

Jasmine lay on her chaise like a delicate queen, smiling sweetly at the guests who flocked to see the miracle — the perfect woman, alive after three years in a coma. Scott hovered by her side, his every gesture dripping devotion like poison I once used to drink willingly.

I moved through the ballroom with a tray in my hands, nodding, bowing, smiling as if none of it tore me apart inside.

When I brought Jasmine her wine, she clasped my wrist with her toosoft fingers. “Nadine, this is lovely. Truly, thank you for all this.” She tilted her head, her syrupy tone slipping like a knife under my ribs. “You know, your husband really loves me. Don’t you think?”

I said nothing.

She laughed lightly, as if it were the funniest thing in the world. “He did this for me — all of this. He’d do anything for me, you know. So, tell me… what are your plans for your wedding anniversary?” Her smile widened, crocodilelike. “I mean, is it really your anniversary?"

Of course, she knew. They had been fooling me since.

I stared right through her. “Don’t worry, I’m leaving so you can have fun with him during our anniversary,” I whispered.

She blinked, caught off guard for a second. But then her grin returned, wider than ever. “Good,” she said, her eyes cold. “Run away, then.”

I turned away before she could see the tremble in my hands. I stood behind the crowd for hours, watching them bask in the glow of my work.

Guests laughed, music flowed, Jasmine twirled around Scott like a silk ribbon and I wondered when I’d ever felt that wanted. Maybe never.

Then it happened.