Chapter 2 - The Rules of the House
Ethan’s rules were never written down.
At first, they sounded like suggestions.
Sophia should tell him where she was going because he worried about her safety.
She should avoid wearing certain dresses because strangers stared at her.
She should not discuss their disagreements with outsiders because marriage was private.
Over time, the suggestions became expectations.
Then the expectations became punishments.
Ethan controlled the bank accounts.
He reviewed the grocery receipts.
He checked Sophia’s phone each evening.
When she changed the password, he remained silent for the entire day. At midnight, he woke her by turning on every light in the bedroom.
“Why did you change it?”
“I was updating my security settings.”
“Why?”
“My phone recommended it.”
“Then tell me the new password.”
Sophia hesitated.
Ethan walked to the closet and removed the framed photograph of her parents from the shelf.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m asking whether your privacy matters more than your family.”
He held the photograph over the open fireplace.
Sophia gave him the password.
Ethan placed the frame back on the shelf.
“There,” he said. “That wasn’t difficult.”
The first time he struck her, he apologized.
It happened after Rachel visited without warning.
Rachel had been Sophia’s friend since college. She noticed immediately that something was wrong.
“You’ve lost weight,” Rachel said.
“I’ve been busy.”
“You don’t work outside the house anymore.”
“I’m helping Ethan with some property projects.”
Rachel looked toward the hallway.
“Does Liam know?”
“Know what?”
“That you’re disappearing.”
Sophia lowered her voice.
“I’m not disappearing.”
“You stopped answering calls. You canceled lunch six times. You deleted your social media accounts.”
“I wanted more privacy.”
“Did you want that, or did Ethan?”
Sophia stood.
“You should go.”
Rachel stared at her.
“Sophia.”
“Please.”
Rachel walked toward the door, then turned.
“You can come to me at any hour. You don’t have to explain anything.”
Ethan returned home twenty minutes later.
He already knew Rachel had visited.
The doorbell camera had alerted his phone.
“What did she want?”
“To see me.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That everything was fine.”
“Did she believe you?”
“I don’t know.”
Ethan removed his watch and placed it on the table.
“I told you not to speak to her.”
“She came here. I didn’t invite her.”
“But you let her inside.”
“She’s my friend.”
Ethan slapped Sophia across the face.
The sound stunned both of them.
Sophia pressed a hand to her cheek.
Ethan stared at his own palm as if it belonged to someone else.
Then he began to cry.
“I’m sorry.”
Sophia stepped away.
“I’m so sorry,” he repeated. “You make me terrified sometimes.”
“I make you terrified?”
“The thought of losing you.”
He sank to his knees and wrapped his arms around her waist.
“My father left when I was nine. My mother chose everyone else before me. When you ignore what I ask, I feel like I’m becoming that child again.”
Sophia remained motionless.
“I need help,” Ethan whispered. “I’ll get help.”
He scheduled an appointment with a therapist.
He attended twice.
For three weeks, he was gentle.
He cooked dinner. He bought flowers. He gave Sophia access to the household account.
Then Liam called.
Sophia answered while Ethan was in the garage.
“Are you alone?” Liam asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you safe?”
Sophia looked through the kitchen window.
Ethan stood beside his car, watching her.
“Yes.”
“I want to see you.”
“I can’t.”
“Sophia, answer the old question. Where did Dad hide the red bicycle?”
Her throat tightened.
Ethan entered the kitchen.
Sophia forced herself to smile.
“I have to go.”
She ended the call.
Ethan placed his keys on the counter.
“What did he want?”
“To have lunch.”
“What did you say?”
“That I was busy.”
Ethan nodded.
Then he saw the fear in her face.
“You were going to tell him.”
“No.”
“You were.”
He grabbed her wrist.
Sophia cried out.
Ethan tightened his grip until she dropped the phone.
“You think your brother can protect you?”
“Ethan, stop.”
“He can’t even protect strangers in his emergency room. People die in front of him every week.”
“Let go of me.”
“You belong to me.”
He released her with a shove.
Sophia struck the counter and fell.
The side of her body hit the cabinet handle.
For several seconds, neither of them moved.
Then Ethan crouched beside her.
“You slipped.”
Sophia looked up.
“What?”
“If anyone asks about the bruise, you slipped.”
That sentence became another rule.
A bruise on her shoulder came from the staircase.
A split lip came from a cabinet door.
A sprained wrist came from carrying a heavy box.
A cracked rib came from falling in the garden.
Ethan selected explanations carefully.
He repeated them until Sophia repeated them too.
Months passed.
Sophia learned how to apply makeup over bruises.
She learned which clothes covered her arms.
She learned to judge Ethan’s mood by the way he placed his keys on the table.
One evening, she discovered that the small guest-bedroom window did not trigger the alarm system.
The opening was narrow.
The fall to the ground was nearly two stories.
But for the first time in months, Sophia saw a possible way out.
She began preparing secretly.
She hid cash behind a loose baseboard.
She photographed her injuries and saved the images under a hidden email account.
She wrote dates and descriptions in a notebook, then sealed it inside the lining of an old suitcase.
Most importantly, she contacted Rachel.
The message contained only five words.
I need the red bicycle.
Rachel did not understand.
Liam would.
Before Rachel could reply, the bedroom door opened.
Ethan stood in the hallway.
Sophia quickly placed her phone facedown.
May you like
He smiled.
“Who are you writing to?”
