Married to the man I hate

Jonathan Campos

The sky over Curitiba was clear, and the stars shone like never before. I'm not the poetic type, much less the type to stop and look at the sky. But on that warm Saturday night, with a bottle of vodka in hand and the party starting to heat up, something felt… different.

“The sky is beautiful tonight,” Carol said, hugging me from behind.

Her sweet voice contrasted with her persistence. We had hooked up before, a few times. She thought that meant something.

“The party hasn't even started yet, babe,” I replied, pulling away from her.

I like Carol’s stupidity; she’s known me so long and still believes she can win me over. I belong to no one, but on a night like this, they all can be mine.

Not only that, but I stepped back into the house, leaving her sweetness behind. I didn’t want affection. I wanted adrenaline, provocation, and fun. And when I saw the brunette across the room, my focus shifted.

Black dress, generous neckline, bold gaze. Seductive just enough. I walked to her with the confidence of someone who knows he can have whoever he wants. She smiled, interested.

“You’re Jonathan Campos?” she asked, leaning into my ear. Her warm breath made the hairs on my neck stand up.

“The one and only. Are you with someone?”

She laughed.

“Does Ravi know you’re here?”

“Everyone knows. And if they don’t, they will.”

Before she could answer, I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder. That voice, full of hatred, was not unfamiliar.

“You’re not welcome here, Campos.”

I turned slowly. It was Ravi, but the loud music barely let me hear him.

“I’ve never been welcome anywhere. But that never stopped me from coming in,” I replied.

His fist clenched. The brunette tried to intervene.

“Cut it out, Ravi.”

But he wouldn’t take his eyes off me. That rivalry had been brewing since school, ever since the girl he was in love with chose me. He never got over it. Since then, he’d been obsessed with proving he could be better than I at everything.

“Your girlfriend’s a hottie,” I teased. “Going to hit me again just because she looked at me?”

“Don’t mess with her,” he growled.

“Or what?”

“I’m not anyone’s boyfriend,” the girl interrupted, pushing between us. “And I don’t want trouble here.”

Ravi grabbed her arm and dragged her away like a possessive horse. I snorted.

“Since she’s not yours, you won’t mind if I take her tonight,” I shouted, following them.

He stopped in the yard. Looked at me like he wanted to kill me right there.

“Not over my dead body.”

“Then let’s settle this with a race. Winner takes all.”

“I’m in,” he said without hesitation.

“Hey?” The girl’s eyes went wide. “You guys are crazy. You really think I can be won in a race?”

Ravi ignored her and got into his Land Rover. Before I climbed into my father’s BMW, I heard Carol behind me.

“You’re crazy? A race?”

“Just for fun. And for a girl.”

She made a pained face. I didn’t care. It wasn’t about her.

I was about to get into the car when I stopped sipping my drink and threw the rest over my shoulder—hitting someone.

“D*mn it!” the girl exclaimed.

She wore a turquoise-blue dress with puffed sleeves, long hair, blue eyes. Beautiful. But angry.

“What kind of idiot does that?” she spat, trying to dry herself off.

“It was an accident,” I tried to smile it off.

“You’re obviously part of all this mess,” she looked at me like I was the trash of the party.

“Didn’t Ravi invite you?”

“I don’t like this kind of party. And you… you’re not my type.”

That hurt. Not enough to knock me down, but enough to piss me off. Who was she to reject me like that?

She walked past me, her arm brushing mine. The sweet perfume lingered. So did the disdain.

For the first time that night, I felt… challenged. But not like with Ravi. Differently. A way I didn’t understand yet.

And I hated every second of it.

Everything was going perfectly: alcohol in my blood, adrenaline in my veins, a night smelling of challenge. Until she crossed my path.

She walked past me with firm steps, as if the world spun to her rhythm. Loose hair, closed-off face. She went straight to Ravi without even noticing me.

“I need you to turn the music down,” she said firmly, but with an irritating elegance. “You know my father is sick. He needs to sleep.”

Her voice was polite, but an invisible edge cut through her words. The boldness behind the softness bothered me more than it should have.

“Don’t be annoying, Letícia,” Ravi replied like he was already used to it. “It’s not even midnight yet.”

Letícia. Her name finally had a face.

“The music can play until ten,” she insisted. “If you don’t turn it down, I’ll call the police.”

She meant business. A flash of lucidity in that chaotic party.

Ravi raised his hands, pretending to surrender.

“Carol!” he called, turning inward. “Do me this favor?”

Carol, always obliging, disappeared into the house without asking questions. I watched everything from a distance, arms crossed, absorbing every gesture of the new girl in the story. She was different. Impossible to ignore. And that made me angry.

A few minutes later, the volume dropped. The party’s mood cooled off, but I barely noticed. I was focused on her.

“Happy now?” Ravi teased.

Letícia just crossed her arms.

“Next time, I’ll invite you to the party. Maybe you’ll stop bothering me.”

“No thanks. Your parties are not only bad but poorly attended,” he answered before turning around. That’s when she saw me—and I barely realized the jab was meant for me.

Her eyes scanned my body from head to toe, with a silent judgment that screamed inside me. She didn’t need to say anything—but she said it anyway:

“That girl is so full of herself,” I snapped, harshly.

She just smiled. A small smile, like she had just won something. Then she went into the house next door and disappeared.

I hated her at that moment. For real. As if she had entered my mind, installed a mirror, and pointed out everything I tried to hide.

“Nice neighborhood you have, Ravi,” I said, ironically.

“Better to have her as a neighbor than you as a friend.”

He laughed and went to his Land Rover, leaving me with my own burning fury.

I ignored my wounded pride and got into my father’s BMW. I shouldn’t have been driving it, of course. It was the most valuable car in the garage. But the urge to show I still ruled something was stronger than the fear of punishment.

Ravi revved the engine. No audience, no judges, just us and the empty city. He raised his hand. Three. Two. One.

I stepped on the gas.

The engine roar tore through the night; tires screamed on the asphalt. The city blurred. Lights flashed by us like silent fireworks.

Ravi led, but I knew him. I knew he always started strong. I was more patient. More calculating.

He beat me through almost the entire route — almost.

I waited for the right moment. Shifted gears, felt the engine vibrate under my hands. I got closer. Almost bumped his bumper.

Victory was mine. The road was clear. The light green. The world silent.

I overtook him on the next curve and smiled. And that smile cost me everything.

I looked in the rearview mirror, wanting to see Ravi’s furious face… but when I looked forward again, time froze. A motorcycle cut in front of my car, and everything happened too fast. I hit the brakes; the car skidded. 100. 80. 60 kilometers per hour.

The impact was inevitable. The dry, metallic, destructive sound. The motorcycle is flying. The body is falling. Then silence.

My eyes burned. My eyebrow bled. The BMW’s hood was destroyed. I staggered out of the car, breathless. Blood tasted in my mouth.

I saw the man thrown on the asphalt. And Ravi? He was already far away. Gone. Like the coward he always was.

“B*st*rd,” I muttered.

I approached the body. He was still breathing. By a thread, but alive.

“Please, God… Don’t let this person die. I don’t want to go to jail. Not now.”

My heart pounded like it wanted to burst out of my chest. I could run away. Just run and pretend nothing happened.

But my legs didn’t obey.

I grabbed my phone and called emergency.

“I… I ran over a man. Send an ambulance. Please.”

I knelt beside him, hands trembling, head spinning, trying to feel his pulse. I needed to make sure he would stay alive until help arrived.

Fine. Jail. Trial. My father. Shame. The scandal.

I was screwed. But I stayed.

Maybe out of cowardice. Possibly out of courage. Possibly because deep down, a part of me knew I had to pay.

Ten minutes later, the ambulance siren cut through the night. The police came with it. They stopped me. Breathalyzer test. No chance to escape.

“You’re arrested,” the officer said, putting handcuffs on me.

And at that moment, I realized my life, or what I thought life was, had ended.

Leticia Albuquerque

It was around midnight, and the noise from the house next door sounded so loud that I felt my bed shake. I got up extremely irritated. John couldn’t sleep; he didn’t feel any pain anymore and didn’t complain. When I left the house, he mumbled something, maybe trying to stop the trouble I was about to cause. But he failed. Before I realized it, I was already there.

When I returned, he was still awake, now sitting on the bed.

“Are you okay?” he asked, genuinely interested, and I took a moment to answer.

“I’m fine,” I replied, though I knew a frown of irritation formed on my forehead.

“You don’t have to go there every time they decide to throw a party.” John always tried so hard not to bother others that he let people rob him of his peace too. “They’re good neighbors.”

“There’s nothing good about disturbing the entire building,” I said, my voice sharp. “Ravi is so lazy, and he has terrible