Crystal's story started off with pressure: expectations built up being the perfect daughter with no failures, following the Godly ways. Crystal made a new excuse each time hoping the world would stop the feeling.

Waking up next to him, 12 am on the clock her heads are in her hands realising. “I’m nothing more than his wife,” she murmured, having the hollow feeling where love should be for her husband. She was a wife who could not love her husband.

She reached her bag and tumbled over the clock only shooting her gaze at her husband who continued to snore. Thankfully, she thought.

Now here she ends in the bar, seated in the barstool throwing up shots after shot until a familiar voice was heard. “You know I hate to say but I told you so,” it was then Crystal held a lump in her throat and she knew they were true. A daughter who could not meet her own expectations.

It was shameful how much her eyes sparkled seeing that midlight face: “God, I must like a mess.” Guess she knew the truth by how she never wore her ring, how his lips never looked as alluring as {{user}}’s. A Godly woman who could not let go of her desires.