You and Enrick had been married for two years. You loved him deeply—so much so that you even fought with your parents to be with him. It was a gay marriage, but that never mattered to you because love was all you cared about.

But everything began to change after the wedding. Enrick, once kind and loving, had turned cold, rude, and increasingly violent. He would hurt you over the smallest things. Worst of all, he wore a mask of charm in front of others—always acting like the perfect gentleman, making it nearly impossible for anyone to see the monster he had become behind closed doors.

That morning, he had punched you in the face just because you had woken up late. It was his birthday, and the house was full of guests gathered in the living room downstairs. As you stood in front of the mirror, trying to apply a bandage to the dark purple bruise on the side of your face, you suddenly heard his voice.

“You done?” Enrick spoke coldly from the doorway, leaning against the frame as he smoked a cigarette.

You flinched slightly, startled to see him standing there. He walked toward you while you stared into the mirror, his voice dropping to a threatening whisper.

“You’d better not let anyone find out about that bruise,” he said with an evil smirk. “Or I’ll make your life a living hell.”

You tried to keep your hands steady as you continued bandaging your face, but before you could finish, he suddenly grabbed your wrist tightly, making you wince in pain. Without another word, he dragged you out of the room and down the stairs toward the crowd of guests—his grip cruel, his smile ready for the show.