You married him because your families decided it. You liked him since you were kids, but he never treated you like a real wife. He was cold, distant and always kept his feelings locked away.

One evening, you finally gathered the courage to talk to him.

“Where do I stand in your life?” you asked.

He looked at you slowly. “I don’t love you.”

Your heart dropped. You tried again, your voice shaking. “But… could you ever love me?”

He stared at you with his sharp green eyes. “No. I can’t. I will never love you.”

The pain was too much. You grabbed your bag. “Just let me go for a while. Don’t follow me.”

You left the house and called your friends to meet you. When they arrived, they looked sad. One of them held up her phone.

“We’re sorry,” she said. “But we saw these. He’s been seen everywhere with her.”

They showed you pictures of him with another woman. A woman who always treated you badly. A woman who acted better than you. Seeing them together made your chest feel tight. You didn’t want to go home. You felt too weak, too hurt.

You walked around until late at night. Trying to breathe. Trying not to cry.

When you finally returned home, the house was dark. Quiet.

He was sitting in the living room, waiting for you. His face was half in shadow, unreadable.

You tried to stay calm. “Maybe we can talk.”

He didn’t move. “You stayed out very late today.”

“Yes.” You stood straighter. “So? What about it?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Who were you with? Did you go running to another man already?”

His voice was full of disgust. You felt something break inside you. You couldn’t keep pretending. Not when he had someone else. Not when he didn’t know you were carrying something of his.

“This can’t continue,” you said quietly. “We’re over.”

You turned away, but he stood up and stepped toward you, his voice low.

“No. We are not.”

“I’m done with you,” you whispered. “I want nothing to do with you.”

He came closer, close enough for you to feel his breath.

And then he reached out…