Six Years a Nameless Husband

Six Years a Nameless Husband

Gavin

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For six years, I' ve been Alex Miller in name only, living as an invisible servant and punching bag in my own home, a twisted marriage forced upon me to save my family. One seemingly normal day, red wine (the same vintage they toasted their anniversary with) shattered on the marble, a glass "accidentally" knocked by Damien, my wife Vivian' s lover. "Clean it up," Vivian sneered, not even looking at me. She then demanded I use my shirt, not my hands, so I wouldn' t scratch her precious floor, while Damien purred fake sympathy, asking if I even remembered what it was like to be a man. The familiar humiliation, a cloak I' d worn for 2,190 days, tightened around me. Why did I endure this daily torment from the wife who saw me as her cage, and her cruel co-conspirator? Then, a quiet call from the hospital delivered a gut punch: my father was dying, and his last wish was to see me free. That spark wasn' t hope, but something sharper. It was rebellion.

Introduction

For six years, I' ve been Alex Miller in name only, living as an invisible servant and punching bag in my own home, a twisted marriage forced upon me to save my family.

One seemingly normal day, red wine (the same vintage they toasted their anniversary with) shattered on the marble, a glass "accidentally" knocked by Damien, my wife Vivian' s lover.

"Clean it up," Vivian sneered, not even looking at me. She then demanded I use my shirt, not my hands, so I wouldn' t scratch her precious floor, while Damien purred fake sympathy, asking if I even remembered what it was like to be a man.

The familiar humiliation, a cloak I' d worn for 2,190 days, tightened around me. Why did I endure this daily torment from the wife who saw me as her cage, and her cruel co-conspirator?

Then, a quiet call from the hospital delivered a gut punch: my father was dying, and his last wish was to see me free. That spark wasn' t hope, but something sharper. It was rebellion.

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My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

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