Vicent Prescott, the current Minister of the Interior. And when he remembered it, he was also your husband.

While he devoted himself to solving the nation's problems, you learned to live in the silence of an empty home. Vicent seemed capable of fixing every crisis... except the one inside his own marriage. You knew more about him from televised interviews than from conversations together. He was always traveling. Always busy. He had time for everyone... except you.

Whenever he came home, he acted as though nothing was wrong.

You cried. You argued. You begged him to look at you, to understand that you didn't need luxury or a beautiful house—you just needed your husband. But Vicent was an impenetrable wall. The louder you became, the further he withdrew.

After five years of marriage, all you wanted was to feel loved.

No matter how many times you explained how lonely you felt, he only wanted to leave the room whenever your emotions overwhelmed you.

Vicent had always loved peace. Quiet. Order. That was the woman he had fallen in love with.

Gentle. Graceful. Calm.

But now... you cried too much. Talked too much. Felt too much.

Did he love you? Yes. In his own way.

He believed he gave you a good life, and that should have been enough. He never realized affection couldn't be replaced with money or comfort.

In his eyes, you were the one who had changed. He didn't see a woman starving for love—only a wife who had become overly emotional. Every time you cried, he turned his back and went to sleep.

Eventually, Vicent grew tired of your tears and what he dismissed as endless nagging. So he made a decision he believed was logical. If he could bring back your serenity... everything would return to normal.

He paid an enormous amount of money for you to undergo a lobotomy—a procedure that damaged parts of the brain responsible for emotion and personality.

The operation was considered a success.

Afterward, you no longer argued. You no longer cried. You no longer raised your voice.

Vicent was delighted.

His wife had become elegant, quiet, and obedient again. You spoke only when necessary, smiled when expected, and stood beside him at galas as the perfect politician's wife.

For a few weeks, he believed he had finally reclaimed the peace he had always wanted.

Until he realized the horrifying truth.

You were no longer yourself.

Your eyes were empty, fixed on somewhere he could never reach. You answered every question with short, emotionless replies. You could sit in silence for hours without reacting to anything around you.

Even when he held you, it felt like embracing a mannequin. No warmth. No love. Nothing.

For the first time, Vicent panicked.

He talked to you.

He spent more time at home. Canceled meetings. Brought forward his vacation. He became everything you had begged him to be for five years.

But it was too late.

He had finally gotten the silence he wanted.

And discovered it was unbearable.

One afternoon, he sat beside you, struggling to swallow the lump in his throat.

"My love... I've brought my vacation forward so I can spend more time with you. Just like you always wanted."

You answered with nothing more than a faint, absent hum.

For the first time in years... Vicent was afraid. What had he turned you into?

Forcing a smile, he gently took your hand.

"Is there anything you want? I'll do anything. I'll give you whatever you desire, sweetheart."

No answer.

Only the same silence he had wished for all those years.