Buried Beside My Broken Husband

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During the wedding toasts, my wifes guy friend, Chase, looked at me with a sly, knowing smirk.

Hey, man. Looking good. Great build.

I assumed he was complimenting the bespoke charcoal suit I was wearing. Squeezing Helenas hand, I gave him a shy, grateful smile.

Thank you.

The next second, the entire table erupted into booming laughter.

Chase leaned over, tossing an arm around Helenas shoulder. "Don't thank me. Honestly, we should be thanking Helena. Shes the one who gave us the grand tour. Who knew she'd be willing to share those private bedroom photos with the group chat?"

A cold dread washed over me, freezing the blood in my veins. I turned slowly, my eyes searching Helena's face for some kind of denial.

She was quiet for a beat. Then, she reached down and gently rubbed my knuckles, her touch meant to soothe but feeling entirely hollow. "It was just a game of Truth or Dare, Ian. I lost. You couldn't expect me to back out and let everyone think I'm a sore loser."

I stared at her, completely numb. It hit me all at once: my private, intimate photos had been passed around among her friends like a cheap joke. Even though I was fully dressed in a tailored suit, I felt utterly naked under their gazes.

Chase scoffed, his tone dripping with thin, condescending pity. "Oh, come on. You literally sold your body to save Helena back then. Don't tell me you're getting touchy over a couple of bedroom pictures now."

The wound I had spent years trying to bury was ripped wide open, and the pain left me gasping for air.

Suddenly, the illusion shattered. The prestige, the wealth, the grand weddingit all felt incredibly pathetic. I reached down, slowly slid the platinum band off my finger, and placed it on the white tablecloth.

"I'm done, Helena. The wedding is off."

Helenas brow furrowed, her expression tightening with irritation.

"Ian, have you lost your mind?"

"I told you I dont care about your past. I kept my promise and married you. What more do you want?"

My mother came shuffling over to our table, her steps weak and trembling, her face etched with deep worry.

"Ian, sweetie? What's going on?"

She had just finished another grueling round of chemotherapy, and her skin looked paper-thin and ghostly pale.

Helena immediately stepped in front of me, her sharp edge instantly melting into a warm, reassuring smile.

"Nothings wrong, Mom. Were just teasing each other."

I looked past her shoulder, watching my frail mother and my father, who sat paralyzed in his wheelchair a few yards away.

I swallowed the burning humiliation in my throat and forced a tight, artificial smile.

"She's right, Mom. It's nothing. Helena was just joking around."

My mother let out a soft sigh of relief. "Oh, good. Helena, our Ian is a gentle boy. Please don't tease him too hard."

Helena smiled warmly, nodding. "Of course, Mom. You know I cherish him too much to ever hurt him."

From across the table, Chase let out a quiet, mocking snort. "Spoken like a true housekeeper's son. He'll swallow any amount of dirt just to marry into a family like ours."

Someone next to him quickly nudged his arm, whispering, "Chase, shut up."

But Chase just mumbled, "What? I'm not wrong..."

Hours later, the reception finally ended, and the guests scattered into the night. We returned to the bridal suite, where the king-sized bed was sprinkled with red rose petalsa classic, romantic touch. I sat on the edge of the mattress, my chest tight, wanting to talk to Helena about the photos. But before I could speak, she leaned down, capturing my lips in a deep, heavy kiss that drowned out my words.

"Let's not ruin our wedding night with arguments, Ian," she murmured against my skin.

After a chaotic, exhausting hour, Helena slipped out to wash up. I lay there with my eyes closed, waiting for the heavy silence to settle over me.

Suddenly, the closet door clicked open. Chase stepped out, holding a digital camera, laughing so hard his shoulders shook.

"Incredible! Absolutely stellar! Helena, youve still got those moves!"

My breath hitched. Panic seized me as I frantically clawed at the duvet, dragging it up to cover my bare body. "What the hell are you doing in here? Get out! Get the fuck out!"

Chase rolled eyes, casually tossing the camera in his hand. "Relax, man. Its just a wedding night prank. Don't make a big deal out of it."

Helena walked back into the room, wearing a silk robe. She leaned down and pressed a casual kiss to my exposed shoulder, then looked up at Chase with a soft, indulgent smile.

"Alright, Chase, thats enough. Get out before your brother-in-law actually loses his temper."

I froze, staring at her in absolute disbelief. "Helena... you knew he was in there?"

Before she could answer, Chase interjected, "Don't overthink it, Ian. It's a tradition in our circle. I film it for every friend who gets married. Just a harmless joke. Helena only went along with it because she didn't want to be the boring one. You wouldn't want her to be an outcast, would you?"

A suffocating wave of shame washed over me. The humiliation was so heavy it felt physical. I couldn't hold back the rage tearing through my chest.

"What kind of sick joke is this? You record your friends having sex for your own amusement? Helena, you are disgusting!"

I lunged forward to slap the smug look off Chases face, but Helena intercepted me. She grabbed my wrist mid-air, her grip like iron, looking down at me with cold, piercing eyes.

"Disgusting?" she asked, her voice dropping to a freezing whisper. "Personally, I think the dirty, broken version of you is much harder to look at."

She threw my hand back, sending me sprawling across the bed. Without another word, she grabbed Chases wrist and walked out of the suite. As they left, Chase turned his head and flashed me a triumphant, mocking grin.

Lying there in the dark, the past rushed back in terrifying, vivid flashes. It was five years ago. Helena had been kidnapped by one of her family's bitter business rivals. To save her, I had willingly offered myself up as a hostage. I remembered the cold metal of the gun pressed against Helenas temple as the kidnapper sneered at me:

"One of you has to pay a price to leave this room alive today. You choose."

I hadn't hesitated. Not even for a second. I would have given anything to keep her safe.

What followed was a nightmare of blunt force and cruelty. Fists and wooden bats rained down on me, shattering my bones and my dignity. Helena had been forced to watch every single second of my torment. Her eyes had gone bloodshot, screaming like a wild animal:

"Stop it! Touch me instead! Kill me! Just leave him alone!"

Her desperate screams eventually dissolved into broken, hysterical begging, and finally, into quiet, helpless weeping.

After several days of agony, I finally managed to steal a key and help us escape. Helena was returned to her wealthy world unharmed, but I was entirely broken. The day the doctors told me the physical trauma had left me permanently sterile, a heavy, suffocating depression settled over me. I tried to hang myself. I slashed my wrists. I wanted to escape my own body.

For months, Helena couldn't sleep. She stayed by my side day and night, watching my every move. But when the news of my condition and my suicide attempts reached my parents, it destroyed them. My father suffered a massive stroke that left him paralyzed and half-dead. My mothers health deteriorated rapidly from sheer grief and worry. They resigned from their positions at the Caldwell estate, planning to take me far away so we could heal in obscurity.

But Helena had thrown herself at their feet, kneeling on the hard floor and weeping until her forehead was bruised and bleeding.

"Mr. and Mrs. Ward, please," she had sobbed. "I can never repay what Ian did for me, but I swear on my life I will cherish him. I swear to you, I will spend the rest of my days loving him and only him."

A shrill, frantic ringing shattered my thoughts. I fumbled for my phone. My father's voice came through, thick with panic.

"Ian... Ian, it's your mother. She's collapsed again. I don't know what to do..."

I sat up instantly, adrenaline surging through me. "Dad, breathe. Stay calm. Im finding a doctor right now!"

My mother's rare condition could only be treated by the specialists at the Caldwell family's private medical facility.

I threw a robe over my shoulders and repeatedly called Helena, but the calls kept going straight to voicemail. Then, I heard a faint ringing nearby. I followed the sound down the hallway of our massive apartment. As I approached the guest suite, a soft, muffled sound drifted through the doorthe unmistakable, intimate rhythm of heavy breathing.

I pushed the door open. Helena was leaning back in a plush armchair, her expression relaxed and indifferent. Chase was kneeling on the floor between her thighs. My mind went entirely blank, a white-hot fury vaporizing whatever sanity I had left. I lunged forward, trying to tear them apart.

"What are you doing? What the hell is this?!"

Chase gasped in surprise, violently shoving me back. "What is wrong with you? Ian, seriously? Youre making a scene over nothing. We didn't even go all the way."

I couldn't speak. The rage was a physical block in my throat, hot tears blurring my vision.

Helena calmly adjusted her robe and stepped forward, reaching down to help me up. "Ian, are you okay?"

I violently slapped her hand away. "Don't touch me! You make me sick!"

Helenas hand froze in mid-air, her eyes darkening. "Ian, if you hadn't thrown a tantrum on our wedding night, I wouldn't have been stressed enough to seek a distraction. Have I not done enough for you? You were broken by those men, and ever since, Ive had to hold back, catering to your delicate physical state. I have compromised my own needs for years. Is that still not enough?"

I shook so hard my teeth rattled. "Helena... you are absolutely shameless."

She let out a dry, bitter laugh. "Shameless? Ian, if Im so disgusting and shameless, why are you standing in my room right now? What does that make you? A beggar?"

The last trace of color drained from my face.

But then I pictured my mother, gasping for breath on a cold floor, and I forced myself to swallow the bitter humiliation. I grabbed Helena's sleeve, my voice cracking.

"Helena, please... my mother is dying. I beg you, for the sake of what I did for you back then, please call the private hospital. Send the doctors to her!"

Helenas expression softened slightly, a flicker of panic in her eyes. "Ian, okay. Don't worry, Ill call them right now."

She pulled out her phone to dial the private line. But Chase stepped in, snatched the phone directly from her hand, and stepped back.

He knelt down in front of me, tilting his head with a mocking smirk. "Wow, Ian. You really know how to find an exit strategy, don't you? Using your own mother's health to guilt Helena on your wedding night? It's been five years, and you're still playing the martyr card to keep her chained to you."

I choked back a sob. "I'm not lying! Helena, please, you have to believe me... I'm telling the truth."

Helena stared at me, her eyes unreadable, but she remained silent.

Chase grabbed me by the collar of my robe. "But we still have the issue of you trying to hit me earlier. We can't just overlook that. Just because your parents were servants doesn't mean you can act like a savage. I think you owe me an apology. Down on your knees. Press your head to the floor three times, and maybe I'll give Helena her phone back."

I turned to Helena, pleading with every ounce of my soul. "Helena, please... my mother doesn't have time. Tell him to give you the phone. Please!"

Helena looked away, quiet for an agonizing moment, before she spoke in a flat, detached voice. "Ian... you really shouldn't have put your hands on Chase. You do owe him an apology."

I stared at her, a hollow, broken laugh slipping from my lips. My mother was dying, and here I was. I slowly let my knees drop to the cold hardwood floor. Looking at Chase, I whispered, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled. I shouldn't have pushed you. Chase, please forgive me."

I forced my forehead down onto the hard floor, again and again, until a sharp pain flared and warm blood began to trickle down the bridge of my nose, blurring my vision. I looked up at Helena, my face smeared with red.

"Is that enough? Can we save my mother now?"

The bright red blood dripped down my forehead. Helenas chest heaved, her fists clenching at her sides as if a sudden spike of guilt had finally pierced through her cold facade.

"Enough!" she snapped.

Chase smiled, thoroughly pleased. He stopped the video recording on his phone and patted my bloody cheek condescendingly. "There. All forgiven."

He stared at the screen, admiring the footage of my utter humiliation. "Man, you really have no dignity, do you? I wonder how your sweet parents would feel seeing you like this. The things you'll do to secure a spot in a rich family."

He tilted his head, a cruel thought lighting up his eyes. "Actually, if your sick mom saw this, shed probably die of shame before the doctors even got there."

I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper, suppressing the urge to tear him apart.

Just then, my phone buzzed again. My hands shook so violently I dropped it twice before successfully sliding to answer.

"Ian!" my father sobbed, his voice cracking with sheer terror. "Someone... someone just sent your mother a video of you... of you begging on your knees, bleeding... She started choking, Ian... shes coughing up blood! Why... why would you do that to yourself? What did they do to you?"

The world went entirely silent around me.

I scrambled to my feet, my legs buckling beneath me. Helena reached out to steady me. "Ian, what's wrong?"

I threw her off with all the strength I had left and ran for the door like a madman. Helena looked bewildered and took a step to follow me, but behind her, Chase suddenly collapsed onto the floor with a dramatic groan. "Helena! My ankle... it hurts so bad! I think I broke it when he pushed me!"

Helena hesitated for a fraction of a second, but ultimately turned back to help Chase.

I didn't wait. I ran all the way back to my parents' small apartment down the street, bursting through the front door, gasping for breath.

"Dad! Mom! I'm here! Where are you?"

But the apartment was dead silent. The wheelchair was overturned near the balcony door, the sheer curtains fluttering wildly in the cold night air. A sickening dread pooled in my stomach.

I rushed to the balcony. There, on the ledge, was my father. With his paralyzed legs, I couldn't even comprehend how much agonizing effort it must have taken for him to drag his body up onto the high sill. He was leaning out into the open sky, teetering on the edge. My heart hammered violently against my ribs.

"Dad! No! Please, stop!"

He turned his head and looked at me, a gentle, heartbreaking smile on his worn face. "Ian... my brave boy. I'm so sorry. I can't let us be a burden to you anymore..."

"Dad!" I screamed, lunging forward and grabbing his arm. "I've got you! Just hold on! Give me your other hand!"

But my fingers slipped. With a sickening rush of air, he fell. I was left gasping on the ledge, staring down at his prosthetic leg, which had come loose in my desperate grip.

"Dad!" I shrieked, my voice tearing. I leaned over the balcony, but the sight below made my vision swim. A dark pool of crimson was already blooming on the pavement below.

Suddenly, a loud, heavy crash echoed from the bedroom. I froze. My chest felt hollow, as if my heart had been ripped out of my ribcage. The short walk from the balcony to the bedroom felt like a mile-long march to the gallows. I pushed the bedroom door open. My mother was hanging from the ceiling fan, suspended by a bedsheet. Her face was pale, her lips a terrible shade of blue. She wasn't breathing.

"Mom! No, no, no!" I screamed, rushing forward and wrapping my arms around her legs, trying to lift her up to take the pressure off her neck. But my body was exhausted, my muscles failing. I strained on my tiptoes, desperately clawing at the knot, but I couldn't reach high enough to loosen it. My footing slipped, and I collapsed heavily onto the floor, weeping in absolute defeat.

Right by her feet lay a crumpled piece of paper. I picked it up with trembling hands. It was her handwriting:

My darling boy, do not let us hold you back anymore. Be free. Live a life of your own.

I clutched the note to my chest, a gutteral, agonizing sob ripping from my lungs. "Dad... Mom... please come back. Don't leave me here alone. Please..."

That was when the Caldwell family's private doctor finally arrived, panting from the climb. He took in the chaos of the living room and asked cautiously, "Mr. Ward, where is your mother?"

I didn't say a word. I wiped my tears, my expression turning utterly blank, and pointed toward the bedroom. The doctor walked in, and a second later, a horrific scream tore from his throat. His heavy medical bag slipped from his hand, sending bottles and instruments clattering across the floor.

He spun around, wide-eyed with terror, only to see me standing on the edge of the balcony railing. I carefully folded my mother's suicide note and slipped it into my pocket. Then, looking out at the endless night, I closed my eyes and let myself fall backward.

Mom, Dad, wait for me. I'm coming.

The doctors panicked scream faded as the wind rushed past my ears, a roaring, comforting embrace. And then, the world went quiet.

Shaking violently, the doctor fumbled for his phone and dialed Helena's number. "Ma'am..."

Helena answered, her voice carrying a trace of lazy, arrogant amusement. "Well? Is his mother stable? Has Ian realized how foolish he's being yet?"

The doctor collapsed onto the floor, his lips trembling. "Ma'am... they're gone. Ian... his whole family... they're all dead."