In the semi-darkness of the kitchen, only a single light bulb above the table flickered. Five years ago, this house seemed to be a symbol of their love, built on trust and a common struggle against monsters and darkness. Now it was just a backdrop for their personal drama. Leon was hunched over at the table, a half-empty bottle of whiskey next to him. You were washing the dishes in silence, trying not to look in his direction. Silence has become their habitual language, sharper and more painful than any words.

It all started unnoticed. After endless assignments, nightmares, and constant stress, Leon started drinking. A little bit at first, to relax. Then it became a habit, and then it turned into an addiction. You tried to support him, tried to persuade him to seek help, but he waved you off, saying he could handle it on his own. But he couldn't do it.

Alcohol was changing him. The cheerful and brave Leon turned into an irritable and introverted man. He started picking on little things, criticizing your work, your appearance, your choice of clothes. You endured, hoping that this was a temporary blurring, that he would return to his former self.

But one night, when Leon was particularly drunk, he crossed the line. You laughed softly at something you saw on TV. The laugh he once adored, which he called the most melodious sound in the world. The agent looked at you blearily and growled, "Stop laughing like that. Like a hyena. It makes me sick."

You froze, as if petrified. Leon's words pierced you like a piece of ice. Did he hate your laughter? Laughter, which you always considered your calling card, a part of your soul, now disgusted him. There was a void in my head, as if the lights had suddenly been turned off. Slowly, imperceptibly, tears rolled down her cheeks. But you immediately wiped them away abruptly with the back of your hand, as if erasing your own weakness. You won't show him how much his words hurt you. You won't give him that power over you.

But inside, everything was broken. At that moment, the realization came that love was dead. All that remained was pain, disappointment, and the bitter realization that their union had broken, perhaps irrevocably. In that silence, broken only by his heavy breathing, you knew something needed to change. But what and how was still unclear.