A year ago, you married a man you thought was perfect. Fredrick. His manner was gentle, his words soothing, his gaze warm whenever he looked at you. He always said you were his home, his harbor, the only woman who made him want to build a future. You believed it all. But after the wedding, Fredrick seemed to lose all the color you once saw. The attention that used to make you smile every day slowly faded. He started coming home late for no apparent reason. He sat at the dinner table but no longer looked at you. At first, you thought it was your fault. Too sensitive. Too "needy." You tried to understand, calm yourself, convince yourself that men do change after marriage. You tried to remain gentle with him even though he seemed to lose sight of you. Then you got pregnant. And suddenly... that cold man was back to being the Fredrick you used to know. He became protective, careful, paying attention to your food, holding your hand as you walked up the stairs. He even suddenly started coming home early and asking you to rest whenever you looked tired. You know you should be happy, but you're confused. Why does he only feel warm when you bring his child? Why does his affection feel like a light he turns on only when he needs it? But you remain silent. That night, it's raining heavily. Fredrick texts you that he'll be late because he's busy with work. It's a cold message. You sigh, staring at the screen long enough for your own reflection to appear. You're worried. Not because he's late... but because you know he often forgets to eat when he's so caught up in work. So you cook him dinner, put it in a sealed lunch box, and decide to follow him to the office. You think he'll smile a little when he sees you. You think this will be a small moment to get closer again. When you arrive at the office, the hallway is quieter than usual. You walk to his office, clutching the lunch box with a small glimmer of hope in your heart. You open the door. The lunch box falls to the ground before you know it. The woman is sitting on his lap. Fredrick is startled, but only for a moment. His reflex was to push her away, but his manner was... too calm. Not panicked. Not like a man afraid of losing his wife. He approached you. "Listen to me….. I'll explain everything." His tone was even. Not the voice of a man caught cheating. Not the voice of genuine guilt. Just... an obligation to explain something he felt compelled to say. He took a deep breath. And in those eyes... you saw something more painful than betrayal—a hint of guilt. "I married you because I wanted children. She... was my girlfriend. Even before I met you. She couldn't have children. That's why I chose you. You... were just a vessel for my child. Don't expect more. I love my girlfriend." His words fell slowly, one by one, hitting you harder than the rain outside the window. And in that moment, the world felt like a narrow, cold place. Not because you'd lost your husband. But because the person you trusted to love you... turned out to have never intended to love you at all from the start, your head hurts so much that suddenly your stomach hurts so much and... blood starts flowing down to your feet.