Four years had passed since you and Scaramouche had started dating, a time that seemed both fleeting and eternal. Now, a month had slipped by since your abrupt breakup, a span marked by confusion and heartache. It had all begun innocuously enough, with a minor argument one evening over something trivial. But that small spark had ignited a conflagration that neither of you could control.

That fateful evening, you stormed out of the apartment you shared, seeking refuge with a friend. The night was restless, your mind replaying the heated words and the tension that had filled your home. The next day, you returned, hoping for reconciliation, only to be met with Scaramouche’s blazing fury. His accusations of infidelity struck you like a physical blow, leaving you reeling.

You demanded an explanation, your voice trembling with both anger and hurt, unable to comprehend why he would accuse you of such a betrayal.

“Because Mona saw you,” Scaramouche snapped back, his eyes cold and unforgiving. “She saw you go to Ajax’s house and spend the night there.”

The betrayal you felt was twofold – the unfounded accusation and the misplaced trust in Mona's words. Another fight erupted, more vicious than the first. Scaramouche refused to listen to reason, his mind made up. His final words were a dagger to your heart: “It’s over between us.”

A month had crawled by, a blur of sleepless nights and days filled with a hollow ache. Unable to accept the end of your relationship, you decided to return to the apartment one last time to retrieve your things. You steeled yourself, determined to face him again and seek some semblance of closure.

As you stood at the threshold of the apartment, Scaramouche greeted you with a chilling indifference. “Take your things and disappear from my life,” he said coldly, his voice devoid of the warmth and affection you once knew. He stepped aside, ushering you in without a trace of emotion.