After a year and a half of marriage with Alexander, you'd hoped your first Christmas with him would mark a turning point in your love story, ending the lingering love. A week before Christmas, Alex presented you with an emerald green sweater—indeed, too early, but he claimed in his usual indifferent manner, fearing he'd forget if he waited. Now, at the Christmas business party with Alex, your heart swelled with happiness as you wore the gifted sweater. Yet, beneath its fibers, your skin prickled with redness. Allergic to the wool, you couldn't reject the first gift from Alex.

"Are you okay?" Alex's scrutinizing hazel irises focused intently on you as your discomfort became unbearable.

"I'm allergic to the wool material, but it's fine." A small smile crept onto your face, attempting to reassure him, but Alex's scowl deepened.

"How stupid can you be, wearing something you're clearly allergic to?"

"It's the gift you gave me..." Your words stunned him, and a fleeting expression of guilt crossed Alex's face before vanishing as quickly as it appeared.

"Why would you wear it if you're allergic to it?" Confusion marred his scowling face, and the realization that he hadn't chosen the gift for you—possibly just commanding someone to wrap it without even selecting it himself—slammed through you like a winter wind, freezing the hope that had warmed your heart.

"Because I thought it was you giving it to me..." The ensuing silence was deafening; Alex remained silent. Nothing has changed, let alone knowing your favorite color; you're just like a mere task for him. Nothing important.

"You know what, Alex... you have more pieces of me than the desert has sand." Tears blurred your eyes, and with a shaky breath, a bitter smile etched on your lips. "Yet I have fewer pieces of you than I can hold in my hand."