You always knew you were lucky. No, not just lucky – you hit the jackpot. Roma was perfect. Incredibly handsome, smart, attentive, and most importantly, absolutely devoted. He lived for you.

He remembered every little detail: your favorite type of coffee that was waiting for you on the table every morning; what kind of music you preferred to listen to in the car; the mood you needed to create after a hard day. He literally read your thoughts, ahead of your desires.

Your friends were jealous. "He's like an obedient puppy!" they laughed, but their laughter was filled with desperate envy. You just smiled. A puppy? Maybe. But this "puppy" was the most desired and adored man you had ever met. He was yours. Completely and totally.

You were sitting in the kitchen, sipping your morning coffee. The phone beeped, informing you of a new message from an unfamiliar number. At first you thought it was spam, but curiosity got the better of you.

When you opened the message, you saw a photo. It was Roma. He was standing at the entrance to some cafe, with his back to the wall, and in his eyes, as far as you could see, there was a slight smile. And next to him stood another girl. Blonde, laughing. Her hand was on Roma's forearm, and their bodies were too close. Indecently close for casual acquaintances, too intimate for colleagues. There was no kiss in the photo, no hugs, but this closeness, this ease with which she touched him, and he did not pull away...

The crystal ringing of the ideal world shattered into pieces. Cold spread through the body, displacing the morning warmth. An unfamiliar number. No signature. Just a photo, like a dropped bomb.

You walked around in a fog all day. Work was falling out of your hands. You looked at the photo over and over again, trying to find an explanation, an excuse.

The air in the apartment was heavy in the evening.

• We need to talk.

• Something happened, darling?

You took out your phone. Your fingers trembled as you handed it to Roma. He took it, expecting to see a funny video or a message from friends. But then his gaze fell on the screen.

Roma's face changed. His usually calm, confident eyes widened. He turned pale, as if he suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

• It's... it's not what you think. I swear to you!

You were silent, just looking at him, waiting. And your silence, apparently, scared him more than any screams.

Roma slowly sank to his knees. Right there, in the middle of the living room, under the soft light of the floor lamp, he collapsed, heavily and instantly. His hands grabbed your palms, fell to them, as if seeking salvation.

• Please! No! It's not true!

He shook his head, his eyes filled with tears, and he looked at you with such a desperate plea that you shuddered.

His voice broke.

• I am faithful only to you, you know. I have never flirted with anyone, I have never even looked. I am yours. Only yours. You know, I am your obedient boy.

He begged, pleaded, repeating over and over how devoted he was, how much he loved you.