My Husband Doesn’t Exist Chapter 01
I live alone. I’ve been pretending to be married.
Two pairs of men’s size-eleven sneakers sit on the shoe rack by the front door year-round. A man’s dress shirt hangs on the balcony, swapped out for a fresh one every week.
Every evening when I get home from work, the first thing I do is turn on the speaker system and pretend to have a conversation with my deep-voiced husband.
Six months of this, and nothing has gone wrong.
Until today.
I came home from work and the new neighbor from downstairs cornered me. His face was tight with anger.
“Can you talk to your husband? He was chopping meat all afternoon. I nearly broke my hand banging on your door and he wouldn’t answer!”
My keys slipped from my fingers and hit the floor.
I stared at him.
There’s no one in my apartment. There can’t be.
—
“Get your husband out here. I want to have a word with him.”
Derek Hollins rolled up his sleeves and gestured for me to open the door.
I picked up my keys and clenched them in my palm. My whole body had gone cold.
I was at work all afternoon. There is no possible way anyone was inside my apartment. I know that for a fact.
The unit below mine sat empty for six months. Derek only moved in last week.
I gave him a careful glance.
To avoid revealing that I live alone, I chose to apologize. Smooth things over. Keep the peace.
I forced a smile onto my face.
“I’m sorry. My husband has a short temper. He was probably prepping dinner and got carried away with the noise.”
“I’ll go in and talk to him right now. Really, I’m sorry about that.”
Derek couldn’t say much after I apologized. He muttered a few things under his breath and headed back downstairs.
Only after I heard his door close did I slide my key into the lock.
The front door is reinforced steel. I installed two locks on it.
One deadbolt. One fingerprint lock.
I am a person with an extreme lack of security.
Because I was once stalked.
It happened right after I graduated. I was living in a cheap studio walk-up in the rough part of town.
In the middle of the night, someone picked my lock with a piece of wire, climbed into my bed, and pinned me down.
A neighbor saved me. Helped me call the police. The man was arrested and convicted.
But the damage was already done. That night left a scar on my mind that never healed.
Ever since, I’ve been pretending to be married.
Props. Sound effects. An entire fabricated husband who doesn’t exist.
Because I’m terrified.
I stopped turning the key on the last rotation and opened the security camera app on my phone.
All day long, not a single motion alert.
Between the cameras and both locks, it’s impossible for anyone to have gotten inside.
I turned the deadbolt. Pressed my fingerprint. The door opened.
I didn’t step in. The first thing I did was turn on every light in the apartment.
I scanned the room. Nothing out of place.
The second thing I did was switch on the speaker and play the audio file.
“Hey babe, long day at work?”
A man’s voice, deep and warm, echoed into the hallway.
I smiled and called back, “Honey, keep it down when you’re cooking next time, okay? Don’t bother the neighbors.”
“I know you love me.”
Only after completing both of those rituals did I step inside, lock the door behind me, and press my eye to the peephole.
No one out there.
I went straight to the kitchen.
The knife and cutting board were exactly where I’d left them. Clean. Dry.
No water stains in the sink. No footprints on the floor.
The living room smelled like the white tea diffuser I always keep running.
If someone had been in here, their body would have disrupted the scent of this space.
Nothing. Not a trace.
I let out a small breath of relief.
After triple-checking every window and door, making sure the curtains were sealed tight, I started making porridge for dinner.
Before bed, I called my best friend Jenna.
I told her everything.
Jenna reassured me.
“Mara, your place is locked down like a fortress. Who could possibly get in?”
“The building’s old. The soundproofing sucks. That guy probably heard someone else’s renovations or cooking and thought it was coming from your unit.”
“If you’re scared, we can stay on the phone while we sleep. I’ll keep you company.”
Jenna’s voice was so gentle.
We’ve known each other ten years, since college. She’s always been my closest friend.
I relaxed. I left the call connected with Jenna and drifted peacefully to sleep.
I didn’t expect to be jolted awake at three-thirty in the morning by someone pounding violently on my door.
