Escape from False Marriage

The front door swung open with a familiar creak. I knew what was coming before I even turned around. The same performance, the same script, the same cruel charade I'd endured ninety-eight times before. I set down my coffee mug and braced myself, smoothing my trembling hands against my apron.

Robert stumbled through the doorway, one hand clutching his temple dramatically. His military fatigues were pristine—too pristine for someone just returning from a dangerous mission. Behind him stood Cassidy Shaw, her hand resting protectively over her belly, eyes wide with practiced concern.

"Where am I?" Robert's voice cracked with confusion that I knew was entirely fabricated. "Who are you?"

I felt something break inside me—not suddenly, but like the final thread of a rope that had been fraying for years. Ninety-nine times. This was the ninety-ninth time he'd pretended not to know me.

"I'm Grace," I said quietly. "Your wife."

Robert's eyes widened, performing shock with the skill of a man who'd rehearsed this scene to perfection. "Wife? But I—" His gaze darted to Cassidy, who stepped forward, her hand still cradling her stomach. "I only remember Cassidy. We were together before my deployment. She's pregnant with my child."

Cassidy's lips curved into a small, victorious smile that vanished so quickly I might have imagined it—except I'd seen it ninety-eight times before.

"The doctors said it might be temporary," Robert continued, the lie flowing easily. "But Cassidy needs somewhere to stay. Her husband died three months ago, and she has nowhere to go."

I nodded mechanically, the script so familiar I could recite his lines before he spoke them. Robert would insist she stay with us. He would demand I care for her. Eventually, he would tell me I needed to leave so he could properly support Cassidy and her unborn child.

"Grace," Robert's voice hardened, dropping the confused act momentarily, "Cassidy will be staying in our guest room. She needs our help."

"Of course," I whispered, turning toward the stairs. "I'll prepare the room."

I moved through the motions like a ghost in my own home, pulling fresh sheets from the linen closet, my fingers tracing the embroidered edges I'd stitched myself during one of Robert's longer deployments. Each thread had been a prayer for his safety, a testament to my devotion.

From downstairs, I heard Robert's gentle murmurs as he helped Cassidy settle on our couch—our couch, where we'd once curled together during thunderstorms, where he'd held me and promised forever. Now his tenderness was reserved for another woman, while I prepared a bed for her in our home.

When I returned downstairs, Robert was setting his coffee mug down on the side table. My breath caught when I saw what he was using as a coaster—the small wooden charm I'd traveled to a remote monastery in Colorado to obtain. Three days of hiking through mountain terrain, sleeping in a freezing cabin, waiting for the elderly monk to bless the protection charm that would keep Robert safe during his missions.

And he was using it to protect the furniture from coffee rings.

"Grace," Robert's voice cut through my thoughts. "You should start packing your things."

"Packing?" I echoed, though I already knew what was coming.

"Cassidy needs stability right now. The baby needs a father." His eyes were cold, devoid of the confusion he'd performed earlier. "I need to step up and support them. You understand, don't you?"

Cassidy watched me from the couch, her hand still positioned over her stomach, her eyes gleaming with triumph.

"I'll give you some time to process this," Robert said, his tone suggesting he was being generous. "I'm going to call Marcus and Elena to update them on the situation."

He stepped onto the back porch, sliding the glass door closed behind him. I moved to the kitchen, mechanically filling a glass with water for Cassidy, when Robert's voice drifted through the partially open window.

"No, man, she bought it again," he was saying, laughter in his voice. "Ninety-nine times and she still believes I've forgotten her. It's almost too easy."

I froze, the glass halfway to the counter.

"Elena's worried it's gone too far," he continued, "but what am I supposed to do? Cassidy needs me. Grace will be fine—she always is. She'll pack her bags, find somewhere else to stay, and I'll call her back when... well, when things change."

A pause. "No, I've never actually lost my memory. Not once. But Grace believes whatever I tell her. It's been working for years."

The water glass slipped from my fingers, shattering against the tile floor. Tiny shards scattered across the kitchen, catching the afternoon light like diamonds—broken and sharp and impossible to put back together, just like the remnants of my marriage.