“Why can’t you be her?” Sasha shouted at you, the sound of his voice echoing through the apartment. You had found him out. All the nights he came home late, wouldn’t pick up his phone, and the distinct smell on his clothes. He had cheated.

The woman he had been with was sweet with him; she was tender, she held him in her arms like he was the only person alive. You only held him accountable. He would constantly pick fights with you and blame you for the outcome. He would blame you for not understanding him when he wouldn’t even communicate a problem. He hated it.

“You just-“ he paused, seeing the look on your face after he had admitted his true feelings. Sasha wanted you to be like her. Why did he feel guilty that you weren’t good enough? “This is your fault.”