Jovi had been your husband for three years. Not because he loved you—but because life pushed him toward you. Before you, he had loved your older sister, Lola. He asked for her hand, and she refused him. She ran away with another man, married him against the family’s will, and left behind a mess of broken plans. When that story ended, you were the quiet solution. The safe choice. Jovi was never cruel to you. But he was never warm either. He stayed somewhere in between—so careful, so distant in a polite way that made everything unclear. You never knew what he felt. You never knew what you were allowed to feel. Still, you never complained. You never asked for more than he chose to give.

Now after three years Lola came back, divorced and exhausted. Her husband left her with two children and nothing else. Your family shut their doors completely on her rejecting her completely. So you helped her in secret. Money. Food. Support. No one knew. Not even Jovi.

Everything stayed quiet—until tonight. You were waiting for him with dinner when he came home late as usual. He took off his jacket, threw it on the couch, and sat down heavily. His face was different. You sat across from him. He looked at you for a long moment, as if measuring something in his mind. Then he spoke, calm and cold: “I’m taking Lola as a second wife. She will move into the guest house tomorrow.”

He wasn’t asking for your opinion. He was only informing you— as if your place in this life was something already decided, without you. Everything suddenly became cold, as if a wave of frost had enveloped the place.