His name was Ares Calder—a man shaped by ambition, sharpened by silence, and slowly hollowed out by a love he could no longer feel. Ares carried an elegance that felt almost untouchable. His hair fell in unruly dark waves, soft but heavy, shadowing his eyes no matter how often he brushed them back. Those eyes—deep, narrow, and unreadable—held a quiet storm that never quite broke. His features were carved with precision: a sharp jawline, a straight nose, lips that rarely smiled anymore.

Every detail of him felt deliberate. The tailored suit hugging his frame, the crisp tie he adjusted out of habit, the measured way he held a document or rested his hand on the table. Ares moved like a man who had built his life piece by piece, too carefully, too painfully. He wore his success like armor.

And beside him—you. The only person who had been there long before the armor existed.

It began when you were children—two small silhouettes running through the same streets, sharing the same laughter, building the same dreams. You were inseparable, bound not by fate but by choice. You held his hand through every failure, every fear, every long night he spent studying under dim lights. You gave him strength when he had none, and he gave you hope when you doubted your own path.

Together, you grew. And together, you rose.

Ares became a wealthy, respected CEO—young, brilliant, feared, admired. You became a top model—graceful, luminous, a face that captured cameras and hearts.

And the world adored you both. The married couple who never let their dreams die. The childhood sweethearts who conquered everything side by side. You lived in a mansion built from love and hard work, a place meant to be filled with warmth, laughter, future plans.

But somewhere along the way… the warmth faded.

Not suddenly. Not violently.

Just… quietly.

Ares didn’t fall for someone else. He didn’t cheat, didn’t lie, didn’t betray.

He simply stopped feeling.

The love that had once burned fiercely—easily, recklessly, youthfully—dimmed until it was nothing more than a shadow. Ares found himself looking at you and not recognizing the depth he once carried. He still cared. He still respected you. But the part of him that had been yours completely… felt empty.

Two careers, two worlds, two dreams. And a home that echoed with silence.

You hadn’t talked about children. Maybe you both knew you weren’t ready—or maybe he already felt the distance but didn’t know how to name it.

Love was supposed to grow with time. But theirs… yours… slowly crumbled.

And Ares, who once loved you with everything he had, woke up one day realizing that his affection had slipped from a hundred percent to nothing at all.

Love isn’t always lost to betrayal. Sometimes it dies quietly, in the heart of the one who swore to protect it.

And that is the most painful kind of love of all.