I was sexually assaulted. My husband, Marcus Sterling, was just on the other side of the wall. He remained completely indifferent to my desperate cries for help. Because he had taken off his hearing aids. Again. Throughout our three years of marriage, he was the perfect husband in everyone else’s eyes—handsome, wealthy, and incredibly level-headed. Only I knew the truth. Every time we argued, he would take off his hearing aids. He didn’t have a good temper; he just found me annoying and refused to waste his time communicating with me. That night, Marcus didn’t come looking for me. When I finally dragged my broken body back home, he was sitting under the dim light, looking down, editing a research paper for his first love, Sienna Montgomery. “I was sexually assaulted. We need to go to the police,” I said, walking up to his desk. “Yeah, my bad. I won’t do it next time,” he replied smoothly. He didn’t even look up, throwing out a practiced apology like it was second nature. I looked at his ears. His hearing aids were gone. A sudden, bitter laugh escaped my throat. This silent world of his—I really couldn’t stay in it anymore. “Marcus, let’s get a divorce.” His voice was as cold and detached as ever: “Fine. Let’s stop fighting then.”
I stared at him, my eyes completely dry. I didn’t even have tears left to cry. This was the man I had loved for three years. While I was being tormented, he was helping another woman with her work. Even when I threw the most painful truth right in his face, his only response was a lazy, dismissive brush-off. Seeing that I didn’t keep nagging like I usually did, Marcus finally put his hearing aids back in. He raised his head, his eyes falling on my torn, disheveled clothes. He frowned. “Why are you so dirty? Is that blood?” The living room was only lit by a single, dim lamp, so he couldn’t see clearly. “I tripped on the street. Just a scratch,” I said, my voice dead and flat. Marcus’s frown deepened. “After all these years, you still have that dramatic temper. It was just a routine physical exam. Even if I couldn’t make it, you could have gone by yourself. Did you really have to make such a mess of yourself just to throw a tantrum?” “Go change into some clean clothes. I’ll help you with the cuts.” I didn’t reply. I grabbed a fresh set of clothes from the closet and went straight into the bathroom. I turned on the shower, letting the freezing water pour over my head. I looked at myself in the mirror. My neck and back were covered in dark bruises and horrific, unmistakable marks. Suddenly, a sharp, tearing pain shot through my lower abdomen, as if someone were violently ripping my insides apart. I looked down. On the white bathroom tiles, a bright, shocking red was slowly spreading. That splash of red felt like a nail, pinning me to the floor. I placed my trembling hand over my stomach, grasping onto the absolute last shred of hope. Tears mixed with the shower water, pouring down my face. “My baby…” But the blood kept trickling down my legs, slowly, relentlessly. Marcus didn’t know. Just this morning, I had gotten a positive result on a pregnancy test. I was afraid it might be a false alarm, so I only told him I wanted to go to the hospital for a quick checkup. But the moment we reached the parking garage, Sienna’s call came through on his Snapchat. “Marcus, I messed up my residency case presentation. The chief of medicine is breathing down my neck. Can you log on to your laptop and help me fix it real quick?” Marcus hung up and immediately turned on his heel to head back upstairs. I stared at him, trying to suppress my rising anger, but I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Marcus, who is actually your wife? Me, or Sienna?” His face instantly turned icy. “I’ve told you a thousand times, Sienna and I are just colleagues now. Stop being so dramatic, Elena.” “Dramatic? On our anniversary, she had a mild fever and you abandoned me to drive across town to bring her medicine. When my mother was hospitalized, Sienna said she was scared of her night shift, and you went to keep her company. Now, I’m going in for a medical exam, and you’re abandoning me for her again. Who is the one being dramatic here?” The moment those words left my mouth, Marcus’s eyes went entirely cold. The last bit of his patience vanished. “Elena, you’re too hysterical right now. It’s impossible to talk to you.” My heart sank. In the next second, he reached up and pulled out his hearing aids. It was a perfectly practiced motion. He did this every single time. Whenever I tried to talk about my pain, my disappointment, or the sheer unfairness of our marriage, he would shut himself in his own silent world. Marcus turned and walked away. He didn’t see what happened next. He didn’t see the two drunk men who dragged me into the dark corner of the garage. He actually hadn’t walked far. I saw him waiting for me near the exit for a brief moment. But he never turned around, and he never put his hearing aids back in. His world was completely quiet. And he locked my screams for help right outside his silent wall. I turned off the shower and forced myself to walk out. In the living room, Marcus—who had promised to help me with my cuts—was on a FaceTime call with Sienna. He had completely forgotten about me. His voice carried a gentle patience he had never once shown me. “I’ve fixed the errors for you. You can just print it out now.” The usually serious Dr. Sterling was actually smiling at a phone screen. “Thank you, Marcus! I knew I didn’t have to worry about anything as long as you were around,” Sienna’s sweet voice echoed through the speaker. Watching this scene now, I didn’t even feel my heart break anymore. It was just numb. I went back to our bedroom, contacted a divorce lawyer, and had a separation agreement drafted. Then, I put on a high-neck sweater to cover the bruises. And I walked out the door.
I took an Uber to a hospital further across town and admitted myself to the emergency room. It was almost 1:00 AM, and the lobby was nearly empty. Seeing how pale I was, a nurse immediately rushed over to support me. “Sweetheart, where is your family? Is anyone here with you?” I thought of Marcus. He was probably still enjoying the sounds of the night with his hearing aids on. I opened my mouth, but my throat felt like it was clogged with cotton. “I’m alone. No one is coming.” The nurse gave me a look of pure pity and helped me into the exam room. “Let’s get you checked out first.” The ultrasound room was freezing. When the cold probe pressed down on my abdomen, the pain made my fingers curl tightly. The doctor stared at the screen for a few seconds and sighed. “The embryo is unstable. I’m so sorry, but you’ve miscarried.” I couldn’t process it. “What?” She pulled off her gloves. “You need a D&C procedure immediately to prevent infection.” My brain went entirely numb. A loud ringing filled my ears, and I couldn’t hear anything else. The nurse handed me a consent form. “Elena, where is the baby’s father? We need a signature from a spouse or family member for the procedure.” I looked down at the blank line for “Emergency Contact/Spouse.” My eyes burned. After a long silence, I whispered, “Is it absolutely required? I don’t have a husband anymore. My parents are out of state, and they can’t make it in time.” The nurse’s expression softened with deep sadness. “If there’s truly no one else, you can sign the self-consent and liability waiver yourself.” I took the pen, my fingers shaking violently. “Elena Vance.” As my messy signature hit the paper, I felt a physical hollow space open up inside my chest. Marcus, the very last connection between us is officially gone. Blood tests, payments, paperwork. I had to do every single step by myself. Passing by the OB-GYN wing, I saw a young girl crying just because she had to get a blood draw. Her husband was kneeling beside her, showing no annoyance at all, gently whispering to her. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m right here. Once we’re done, I’ll cook your favorite dinner.” I averted my eyes, staring down at the cotton ball taped over the vein in my hand. So, having someone stay by your side was actually that simple. Yet in our three years of marriage, every time I caught a fever and had to go to the clinic, Sienna would suddenly fall even sicker. I never understood it. Sienna was a doctor herself, but Marcus always told me, “She has a weak immune system. She needs me more than you do.” Only now did I finally realize—Sienna wasn’t weak. Marcus just didn’t love me. Before they wheeled me in, the nurse asked one last time. “Is there really no one we can call for you?” I shook my head. “No.” As the anesthesia was pumped into my IV, I found myself wondering if Marcus would feel even a tiny bit of sorrow if he knew about the baby. But in the next second, I realized how pathetic I was being. He had blocked me out of his entire existence, yet I was still wasting my thoughts on him.
When I woke up from the surgery, dawn was breaking. My throat was incredibly dry. I opened my eyes and instinctively reached for my phone. I had been gone all night, but Marcus had only sent a single text at 3:00 AM. [Where are you?] Right below his text was an Ins notification. Marcus had gone to a karaoke lounge with Sienna. In the photo, Sienna was wearing a pretty sundress, holding a microphone, and singing right next to his ear. Marcus was wearing his hearing aids, looking down at her with pure indulgence. Marcus’s hearing loss was due to a severe childhood ear injury. In the past, I used to love humming soft songs near his ear. But Marcus always told me that his ears couldn’t handle sharp, close-range sounds, and he would promptly take off his hearing aids. He couldn’t stand the sound of my voice. Yet, he could perfectly tolerate a loud microphone blasting right next to his ear for her. I didn’t look at his Ins post again. Instead, I called him. He was still at the venue, and the background noise was incredibly loud. To his surprise, I didn’t scream, cry, or demand answers like I used to. I just said calmly, “Meet me at the police station in an hour.” I had to admit, I was still terrified to handle this part alone. There was a pause on the line. “The police station?” “Are you still trying to track down that lost wedding ring?” Two weeks ago, Marcus had lost his wedding band on his way home from work. We looked everywhere but couldn’t find it. He said we could just buy a new set eventually. But I didn’t want to replace it. We had so few memories together. So, I had filed a police report, and I had been checking in with them periodically to see if anyone had turned it in. Before I could answer him, Sienna’s whiny voice echoed in the background. “Marcus, we finally got a day off together. You promised you’d take me shopping after this.” The rest of her words were muffled. Marcus had probably covered the receiver. After a moment, his voice came back. “Elena, the ring has been gone for weeks. It’s not going to turn up, and honestly, it’s just an object. If you’re absolutely obsessed with going to the station, can I take you tomorrow instead?” I stared at the sterile, white walls of the hospital and let out a soft laugh. “Is shopping with Sienna really more important?” I paused, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Marcus, I was assaulted last night. Does that not matter to you either?” “Never mind. Don’t worry about tomorrow. Just meet me at the law firm so we can sign the divorce papers.” Silence fell over the line. If it weren’t for the faint thumping of the music in the background, I would have thought he had hung up. But I knew Marcus too well after three years. I didn’t even have to guess. The moment I started speaking, he had already switched off his hearing aids. I calmly saved the call recording and hung up. I discharged myself, took a cab to the police station, and went through the grueling process. I gave my statement, submitted the forensic evidence collected by the hospital, and signed the paperwork. The female detective repeatedly comforted me, assuring me they would catch the predators and telling me not to let this ruin my life. Looking at her, a tiny part of my frozen heart finally felt a sliver of warmth. When I got back to our apartment, it was nearly evening. Marcus wasn’t home. I stuffed the discharge papers, medical bills, and ultrasound records into a manila folder and slid it deep into his study desk drawer. It was his child, too. He deserved to know it had existed. At 11:00 PM, Marcus finally walked through the door. He was looking down at his phone, texting as he kicked off his shoes. When he saw me sitting there, his first words were: “Where the hell were you last night?” I curled up on the sofa, my body still aching all over. I didn’t say a word. Perhaps realizing I wasn’t fighting back like usual, his tone softened slightly. He walked over and held up his phone, showing me our neighborhood group chat on WhatsApp. “I’m not trying to yell at you. It’s just dangerous out there right now, and I was worried.” “Look, the police are in our neighborhood investigating. A woman was raped in our parking garage last night.” I looked up, locking my eyes onto his. “Marcus, what if I told you that woman was me?”
“Alright, that’s not funny at all.” “Just tell me next time you go out. Don’t make me worry.” Marcus didn’t take my words seriously. He patted my head dismissively and walked into the bathroom. His phone, which he left on the coffee table, kept buzzing. Even though I tried to ignore it, my eyes caught the screen. His lock screen was no longer our wedding photo. It was a picture of a girl’s back—Sienna. Sienna’s messages kept popping up on Snapchat: [Marcus, I had so much fun today. You’re still just as sweet and caring as you were when we were dating in college.] [You always said you’d only be patient and gentle with me, and that you’d always listen to my voice. I’m glad you kept that promise.] The last trace of warmth inside me evaporated. I fought through the physical pain, turned away, and crawled into bed, pulling the duvet over my head. When Marcus came out of the shower, his phone screen was still lit up. He looked at his phone, then at me, clearly torn between his two worlds. But that hesitation was already an answer in itself. Surprisingly, he didn’t reply to Sienna immediately. Instead, he climbed into bed and wrapped his arms around me from behind. “How was your physical exam? What did the doctor say?” I lay completely still, not turning around. “It went fine.” He let out a sigh of relief. Before he could say anything else, I spoke up. “Marcus, let’s get a divorce.” “I was assaulted, and the baby is gone. I don’t want to do this with you anymore.” This time, his hearing aids were in. He heard every single word. His face darkened instantly. “Elena, is this your new way of starting a fight now? Making up horrific lies?” His hand instinctively went to his ear, a gesture of sheer annoyance and exhaustion. In the next second, he pulled his hearing aids out. I watched him do it, and my entire world fell completely still. He didn’t believe me. To him, this was just another dramatic scene he didn’t want to deal with. “Fine. We’ll talk when you calm down.” Marcus and I entered a state of complete cold war for the next few days. Occasionally, I’d see Sienna posting photos of the two of them on Marcus’s Ins account. Marcus hated taking photos. In our three years of marriage, we only had one photo together—our wedding portrait. But on Sienna’s feed, every post was a beautiful gallery of their memories. I quietly liked her post, and then I blocked Marcus’s number and social media. For the next week, Marcus spent most of his time on shift at the hospital or staying at a hotel near his clinic. He never came back to the apartment. He didn’t even notice that I was packing up. I rented a small apartment on the outskirts of the city. Before I left, I placed the signed separation agreement in the center of the kitchen counter. The only reason I hadn’t left the city entirely was because the suspects had been caught, and I had to attend the preliminary court hearing. On the day of the hearing, the courthouse steps were packed with local news reporters broadcasting live. … Meanwhile, at the hospital, Marcus was doing his rounds. He noticed a group of patients gathered around the TV in the waiting room, whispering excitedly. “The sexual assault case from that downtown garage is in court today.” “So tragic. She was dragged away right from her building’s garage. I heard she was pregnant, too. Those monsters…” “Hey, Dr. Sterling, don’t you live in that building complex? Do you know the poor girl?” A patient stepped aside, pointing at the TV screen. Marcus finished writing his chart, about to shake his head, when his eyes locked onto the screen. There I was, surrounded by reporters. For the first time in his life, he desperately wished he could rip his hearing aids out, but his hands felt as heavy as lead. “Ms. Vance, did you fight back?” a reporter asked. “Yes,” I replied on screen. “Was there really no one around?” “There was.” “Did you call for help?” “I did.” The reporter looked furious. “Then who was it? Who could just stand by and do nothing?!” I paused, my voice trembling but clear. “My husband.” “He took out his hearing aids. He couldn’t hear me.” With every answer, I looked as if I were being dragged back into that cold garage all over again, my hands shaking uncontrollably. A loud crash echoed in the hospital corridor as Marcus stumbled, knocking over a medicine cart. But he didn’t care about the pain. Like a madman, he tore through the crowd and ran out of the hospital lobby, leaving his white coat behind.
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