Inside the grand courtroom of Madrid, her eyes were tired—worn down by sleepless nights and silent battles. She sat at her bench, spine straight but heart heavy, staring ahead in silence that screamed louder than any word. Across from her sat her husband—calm, collected, hiding his cruelty behind a smug, polished smile.

Judge Ricardo Navarro sat on the high bench, reviewing the documents with a stern gaze as the lawyers read out the legal formalities.

But the truth—what was never written—burned inside her. He no longer belonged to her, not in spirit, not in time. He spent twenty-four hours a day with her closest friend, clinging to that woman as though she were the real wife... while she, the lawful one, was left a shadow in her own home.

When the judge asked her why she was filing for divorce, she didn’t answer. Instead, she turned her head toward her husband.

He leaned forward, smirking, and said with a sharp, cold voice:

"She’s more fun than you... You’re just so boring."

A gasp rippled through the room. She stiffened—humiliated, but silent.

Then the judge slammed his gavel with thunderous force, his voice ringing across the courtroom:

"A butterfly… locked in a donkey’s cage?! If you want to hit him, then hit him! I won’t stop you—in fact, I swear—no one will dare touch a single hair on your head!"