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2025-04-19 23:34:42
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Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine   News
Viola McCoy The doorâs open now. I heard the click around 4 a.m.ânot because I was waiting for it, but because I hadnât slept. Couldnât. My eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling while my thoughts clawed at the inside of my skull. I mustâve blinked a thousand times, hoping one of them would carry me into sleep, into some kind of dream where things didnât feel this fractured. But it never came.And now, the door is just... open. Like last night never happened. Like the anger, the dragging, the yelling, the fearâIâm supposed to just erase it. Just walk out and go back to normal.I finally shift. My legs are stiff, my back sore. Iâve been curled up in the same position for hours. The wooden floor beneath me has left a dull ache in my hips, but itâs the numbness that gets meâthe way I donât even flinch at it. Todayâs Sunday. No office. Not that it wouldâve mattered. I donât have the strength to sit behind a desk, smile at coworkers, pretend everythingâs fine. I barely have the strength
āļāļĢāļąāļāļāļĢāļļāļāļĨāđāļēāļŠāļļāļ : 2025-04-20Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine   Creeper
Viola McCoy The house is quiet again. Too quiet.Amirah left a few minutes agoâafter tea, a lot of pacing, and promises to talk to Kendrick face-to-face. I stood by the front door, watching her drive away, arms wrapped around my waist like that might stop the tremble I didnât want her to see. As soon as her taillights faded down the street, I closed the door and leaned my back against it, my head tipping back until it hit the wood.Silence stretches through the house.Julianâs gone. Business trip, he said, though he never told me where. No proper goodbye. No apology. Just a warning disguised as a farewellââTry not to make things worse while Iâm gone.âWorse. As if Iâm the one lighting matches.I move slowly through the living room, dragging my fingers along the edge of the couch as I pass. My legs are still sore from yesterday, from being yanked up the stairs like I was nothing but weight to be hauled around. I didnât let Amirah see the bruise on my wrist when she came by. Th
āļāļĢāļąāļāļāļĢāļļāļāļĨāđāļēāļŠāļļāļ : 2025-04-21Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine   Attack
Viola McCoy Iâve been extra careful since the creeper incident a few days ago, locking every door twice, double-checking the windows, sleeping with the hallway light on even though I hate the glow it casts across the wall like shadows trying to crawl in. And hopefullyâGod, hopefullyâJulian is finally coming back from his triptonight. I told myself Iâd tell him about the man lurking outside the last time. Even though deep down, I suspected... no, I feared he had something to do with it. But I couldnât doubt him. Heâs my husband. Still is. And maybe thatâs the problem. Maybe thatâs why the thought ever entered my head at allâthat he could be behind something like that. What kind of marriage do you have when youâre afraid of your own partner?A honk blares outside, sharp and sudden, and my spine stiffens.I glance at the clock. 8:02 PM. Of course. Julian. Itâs got to be him. I rise from the couch, feeling the soreness still lingering in my back from being locked in that dam
āļāļĢāļąāļāļāļĢāļļāļāļĨāđāļēāļŠāļļāļ : 2025-04-22Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine   Emergency
Logan Reynolds I watch the nurses wheel Viola away, her body limp against the hospital stretcher. Her hair matted, her skin is pale. Thereâs a smear of blood on her chin, a bruise above her collarbone, and my throat feels like itâs closing up. My heart slams against my ribs, wild, like itâs trying to tear through my chest to get to her.I keep hearing that soundâher body hitting the pavement right before I caught her. One second she was knocking on my door, the next she was collapsing into my arms. I remember the way she whispered my name right before she lost consciousness. The terror in her eyes. The tremble in her voice. Iâd shouted her name, trying to wake her up, to keep her with me.God.I shouldâve protected her.I carry that weight now, pacing the sterile white hallway of the ER like a madman. Everything feels wrong. Off. I run a hand through my hair and look down at the faint traces of blood still on my shirt. Hers.I shouldâve taken it seriously when she told me ab
āļāļĢāļąāļāļāļĢāļļāļāļĨāđāļēāļŠāļļāļ : 2025-04-23Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine   Outburst
Viola McCoy The spoon slips from my fingers the moment I see him.Julian.Standing at the door. The warm laughter that had just filled the room with Bonnie and Logan dies. A coldness slips into the space between us. I can feel Loganâs body shift beside me, subtle but tense.âVi?â Julian says softly. He takes a step forward.I donât say a word.Because Iâm not sure what version of him Iâm getting today. The one who kisses me on the forehead and calls me darling? Or the one who locks doors and drags me by the wrist until my ankles feel like itâd crack?My body instinctively leans closer to Logan. I donât mean toâitâs not intentional, not performativeâbut itâs like my ribs remember who was there when I passed out cold in the street. My skin still burns from where the masked man grabbed me, and all I can think is Julian didnât save me. Logan did.âI didnât know you were here,â Julian says, eyes scanning the room now. The flowers on the nightstand. The extra chair pulled beside
āļāļĢāļąāļāļāļĢāļļāļāļĨāđāļēāļŠāļļāļ : 2025-04-24Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine   Alone
Viola McCoy He didnât show up. He never has. But this time, I really thought he would. A knot forms at the pit of my stomach. Why did I let myself hope this time? Maybe because I had woken up to Julian, my husband, holding a bouquet of flowers and waiting to hand them to me as soon as Iâd woken up.Even though itâs my birthday, I hadnât expected him to do something special for me. Heâs not done something special for me in a long long time. But still, that simple gestureâcoupled with the special dinner heâd said he planned for both of us this eveningâhad made me hope he really meant every word he said.But he didnât. And now, Iâm sitting alone at Chilvary Restaurant, staring at the untouched candle on my cake. I exhale slowly, forcing down the sting of humiliation. I can leave. I should leave. But instead, I continue to sit there, waiting, just like I always do. The restaurant doors swing open, and for a brief, stupid second, I think itâs him. It isnât. The candle on my c
āļāļĢāļąāļāļāļĢāļļāļāļĨāđāļēāļŠāļļāļ : 2025-03-05Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine   My Life
Viola McCoy I blink through my tears as I drive back home. A part of me is aching but another part of me isnât surprised. Julian has had a few scandals with a few women over the years which he always denies. So I shouldnât even feel anything.My grip tightens around the steering wheel as I step on the gas. The cool night air does nothing to make me feel better. What I should feel though, is the urge to run. But I also know I never will because leaving isnât an option when you have nowhere to go.No family to run to. A spiteful step mother who wants nothing to do with me would never accept me. And my step siblings are no good either. I could run to my parents but theyâre both up there. In heaven, probably watching their daughter settle for less and less everyday.So, yes, I keep driving. Past the streetlights, past my pride, past every version of me that deserved better.When I finally arrive at my homeâa spiraling penthouse in the heart of Chicago, I let myself breath. Julianâ
āļāļĢāļąāļāļāļĢāļļāļāļĨāđāļēāļŠāļļāļ : 2025-03-05Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine   My Past
Viola McCoy The next morning, I wake up around 6am. I turn my head. The space next to me is untouched, the sheets are still smooth. Julian didnât bother coming upstairs last night. As usual. I shrug, staring at the ceiling. My throat feels a bit sore and my eyelids are heavy. I should get more sleep before I get ready for the office. I still have an hour or so. But I canât get myself to sleep. Instead, I grab my laptop on the nightstand, sitting up on my bed. I stare at the blinking cursor on my laptop screen for a while. Besides work, writing is the only thing that still belongs to me. The only thing Julian hasnât controlled. And thatâs probably because he doesnât know about it, nobody does. To the world, Iâm a faceless writer with the name Shortstuff002 whose words have reached thousands. My readers love my stories, waiting for each new chapter as if I hold the answers to their own heartbreaks. And maybe, just maybe their positive comments have kept me going until now.I
āļāļĢāļąāļāļāļĢāļļāļāļĨāđāļēāļŠāļļāļ : 2025-03-05
āļāļāļĨāđāļēāļŠāļļāļ
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine   Outburst
Viola McCoy The spoon slips from my fingers the moment I see him.Julian.Standing at the door. The warm laughter that had just filled the room with Bonnie and Logan dies. A coldness slips into the space between us. I can feel Loganâs body shift beside me, subtle but tense.âVi?â Julian says softly. He takes a step forward.I donât say a word.Because Iâm not sure what version of him Iâm getting today. The one who kisses me on the forehead and calls me darling? Or the one who locks doors and drags me by the wrist until my ankles feel like itâd crack?My body instinctively leans closer to Logan. I donât mean toâitâs not intentional, not performativeâbut itâs like my ribs remember who was there when I passed out cold in the street. My skin still burns from where the masked man grabbed me, and all I can think is Julian didnât save me. Logan did.âI didnât know you were here,â Julian says, eyes scanning the room now. The flowers on the nightstand. The extra chair pulled beside
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine   Emergency
Logan Reynolds I watch the nurses wheel Viola away, her body limp against the hospital stretcher. Her hair matted, her skin is pale. Thereâs a smear of blood on her chin, a bruise above her collarbone, and my throat feels like itâs closing up. My heart slams against my ribs, wild, like itâs trying to tear through my chest to get to her.I keep hearing that soundâher body hitting the pavement right before I caught her. One second she was knocking on my door, the next she was collapsing into my arms. I remember the way she whispered my name right before she lost consciousness. The terror in her eyes. The tremble in her voice. Iâd shouted her name, trying to wake her up, to keep her with me.God.I shouldâve protected her.I carry that weight now, pacing the sterile white hallway of the ER like a madman. Everything feels wrong. Off. I run a hand through my hair and look down at the faint traces of blood still on my shirt. Hers.I shouldâve taken it seriously when she told me ab
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine   Attack
Viola McCoy Iâve been extra careful since the creeper incident a few days ago, locking every door twice, double-checking the windows, sleeping with the hallway light on even though I hate the glow it casts across the wall like shadows trying to crawl in. And hopefullyâGod, hopefullyâJulian is finally coming back from his triptonight. I told myself Iâd tell him about the man lurking outside the last time. Even though deep down, I suspected... no, I feared he had something to do with it. But I couldnât doubt him. Heâs my husband. Still is. And maybe thatâs the problem. Maybe thatâs why the thought ever entered my head at allâthat he could be behind something like that. What kind of marriage do you have when youâre afraid of your own partner?A honk blares outside, sharp and sudden, and my spine stiffens.I glance at the clock. 8:02 PM. Of course. Julian. Itâs got to be him. I rise from the couch, feeling the soreness still lingering in my back from being locked in that dam
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine   Creeper
Viola McCoy The house is quiet again. Too quiet.Amirah left a few minutes agoâafter tea, a lot of pacing, and promises to talk to Kendrick face-to-face. I stood by the front door, watching her drive away, arms wrapped around my waist like that might stop the tremble I didnât want her to see. As soon as her taillights faded down the street, I closed the door and leaned my back against it, my head tipping back until it hit the wood.Silence stretches through the house.Julianâs gone. Business trip, he said, though he never told me where. No proper goodbye. No apology. Just a warning disguised as a farewellââTry not to make things worse while Iâm gone.âWorse. As if Iâm the one lighting matches.I move slowly through the living room, dragging my fingers along the edge of the couch as I pass. My legs are still sore from yesterday, from being yanked up the stairs like I was nothing but weight to be hauled around. I didnât let Amirah see the bruise on my wrist when she came by. Th
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine   News
Viola McCoy The doorâs open now. I heard the click around 4 a.m.ânot because I was waiting for it, but because I hadnât slept. Couldnât. My eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling while my thoughts clawed at the inside of my skull. I mustâve blinked a thousand times, hoping one of them would carry me into sleep, into some kind of dream where things didnât feel this fractured. But it never came.And now, the door is just... open. Like last night never happened. Like the anger, the dragging, the yelling, the fearâIâm supposed to just erase it. Just walk out and go back to normal.I finally shift. My legs are stiff, my back sore. Iâve been curled up in the same position for hours. The wooden floor beneath me has left a dull ache in my hips, but itâs the numbness that gets meâthe way I donât even flinch at it. Todayâs Sunday. No office. Not that it wouldâve mattered. I donât have the strength to sit behind a desk, smile at coworkers, pretend everythingâs fine. I barely have the strength
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine   Rare
Viola McCoy Logan and I continue to sit on his car as we stare at the horizon. I shouldnât be here. I shouldnât have let him sneak me out.But if I had stayed in that house one moment longer, I wouldâve lost it completely. I wouldâve screamed. Thrown something. Maybe told Julianâs mother exactly what I thought of her sad, tight little smiles and fake compliments. I wouldâve told his cousin to keep her uterus-obsessed mouth shut and that the reason we donât have kids isnât her damn business. I wouldâve said a lot of things I shouldnât.So maybe sneaking out with Logan wasnât the worst mistake I couldâve made today.The wind is gentle, cool against my cheeks. The view from here stretches endlessly and the sun has almost dipped past the horizon. I hug myself tighter.I wonder what Julian is thinking right now. Wonder if heâs pacing. Fuming. Wondering where the hell I am. I told myself Iâd only be gone for a few minutes, just a breather, but itâs been over an hour. Maybe two. I
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine   Escape
Logan ReynoldsI shouldâve known something was up when Julian invited me over. Never thought heâd reach out to me. If anything, he should be wary of me, not shooting out casual texts saying weâre old friends. And yet, I showed up. Like an idiot. Thinking maybeâjust maybeâIâd get to see Viola. Talk to her. See through the cracks in whatever illusion theyâre trying to sell as a happy marriage.Now Iâm sitting at this long-ass mahogany table, surrounded by a sea of fake smiles and passive-aggressive comments. I regret it already. The air is thick with roasted meat and tension. Thereâs a massive centerpiece of red roses and golden eucalyptus that looks expensive but smells faintly like mildew. Across from me, Julianâs cousin is twirling her hair around a manicured finger, eyes locked on me like Iâm a steak she wants to sink her teeth into.âSoâĶ what do you do?â she asks, voice sugar-sweet and clearly rehearsed.I clear my throat, pushing the mashed potatoes around my plate with the
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine   Dreadful
Viola McCoy For the rest of the day, my mind is a chaotic mess. Iâm unable to think of anything besides the scene in the elevator. I tell myself it didnât mean anything. That it was just tensionâclaustrophobia, proximity, fatigue. Anything but real. But itâs a lie, and I know it.Still, I manage to get through the rest of my workday without any more intrusive thoughts clawing at me. I focus on spreadsheets, keep my head down, smile at the interns like everythingâs normal. Like Iâm not completely unraveling on the inside.Julian hasnât texted all day. Not a single word. But Iâm sure he saw the missed calls, saw the timestamp when I got home, saw Loganâs car dropping me off. I wonder whatâs running through his mind right now. I want to believe heâll understand, but who am I kidding? Even I wouldnât believe me.Even if I keep reassuring him that nothing happened, that itâs not what it looks like... deep down, I know it is what it looks like. Maybe worse.I drive home in silence, hand
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine   Clarity
Logan Reynolds She said it.She said not feeling seen isnât enough reason to tear down a marriage. And maybe sheâs right. Maybe that alone doesnât justify lighting a match to vows and rings and promises made in front of people who believed them. But I know itâs not just about being seen. Thereâs more. So much more.Like the way her voice changes when she says his name. Hollow. Or how her hands shake when she thinks no oneâs watching. Or the way she looks at me like Iâm oxygen in a room that keeps running out of air.And now, weâre stuck. In a goddamn elevator.I lean back against the cold metal wall, arms crossed, trying to breathe past the heat pooling low in my chest. I can still feel the soft imprint of her waist under my hands. The tension in her spine when I touched her. The way her body moved without thinking, grabbing onto me when the elevator shuddered.Sheâs curled up on the floor now, knees pulled tight to her chest, like sheâs trying to make herself disappear. Her he
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