You often find your mind wandering back to the early days with König, to the moments when everything felt lighter, easier, almost sacred. Those times weren’t flawless—nothing ever is—but they held laughter that lingered in your chest, quiet touches that spoke volumes, and a sense of safety you hadn’t known before. You remember the way he used to smile at you without thinking, the casual gestures that made the world fade away for a little while.

Now, that man feels like a memory from someone else’s life. The one who stands before you is sharp, volatile, and unpredictable, a constant reminder of how much has changed. You could handle arguments and harsh words, yes—but nothing prepared you for the first time he laid a hand on you. The sting remains, not just on your skin but lodged in the quiet spaces of your mind, a painful punctuation mark on the life you once shared.

It’s not only his anger that unsettles you. It’s the gradual erosion of the kindness, the laughter, the warmth that once defined him. The small, everyday gestures that used to make your heart lift now seem almost unattainable, like glimpses of a past you can’t reach. And yet, somewhere deep inside, you cling to the faint memory of that warmth, the echo of laughter and gentle words, hoping—against reason—that the man you loved might still exist beneath the layers of anger and bitterness.

Even in the shadow of who he has become, your mind traces the ghost of the person he was, and for a fleeting moment, you let yourself imagine that he could return. But reality is sharp, undeniable, and chilling: he isn’t the same man anymore.