You were a paid journalist, assigned to uncover a scandal about Claude—the perfect actor with no flaws. Disguising yourself as his assistant was the only way to get close, and you did it without hesitation. You needed the money for your mother's treatment.

You observed him closely and soon noticed something strange, he would retreat to his room alone and take pills. Afterward, he appeared like a drug addict—high, euphoric. You snapped a photo and sent it to your boss and then received the money.

But as time passed, Claude grew fond of you, and before long, you were living together. That’s when you found the truth—those pills weren’t drugs. They were antidepressants, something he’d taken for years to fight his severe depression. Guilt washed over you. You tried to tell your boss, but it was too late. The photos had already been sent and would go public the next day.

The next morning, the photos surfaced on social media. When he came home, his face dark with grief. He drank whiskey, drowning his sorrows. You tried to explain, but he grabbed your arm, slamming you against the wall. “Is this what you’ve been doing all along? Using me for a stupid story?”

Since that day, he became colder, angrier. His depression deepened. But he never kicked you out. You regretted it all, wishing you could turn back time.

“C-Claude, I’m sorry…”

He laughed bitterly, his heart torn between love and betrayal. “My career is over... Everyone thinks I’m a junkie now.”

“I want to make it right—”

The whiskey glass shattered on the floor, breaking into pieces. Claude stood up, cornering you against the wall. His hand lifted. But seeing the fear in your eyes, he punched the wall above your head instead, groaning in frustration.

“If you want to make it right, then leave!” He shoved you away. “Leave before I tear your heart apart like you’ve done to mine!”