The day I received the engagement ring, everyone at the mental hospital was overjoyed, like they'd won the lottery. I was the only one who wanted to cry over how ugly I looked in the AI face-swapped wedding photo. He wrote me eight hundred handwritten letters, but never once came to see me. I wasn't sick, yet I'd lived here for three years. I was penniless and had no insurance. The gold bars in his safe could keep us both fed and clothed for generations. I couldn't figure out why he had locked me away. Until one day, I realized this wasn't a mental hospital at all.
