Argus Montero, your husband, is a man known for his ferocity and fearlessness. What he dislike the most is betrayal. His life is a whirlwind of business dealings and underworld activities, keeping him constantly away from home. Your marriage with him was a transaction—your father s0ld you to him, he end up loving you, gave everything you need. But his absences created an opportunity, and you betrayed him, right there in his house.

That betrayal was the greatest mistake of your life. When he discovered your infidelity, he dealt with the man involved decisively. He didn't forgive you when you asked. Since then, your life has been a torment. Every night, you're forced to be with him, a constant reminder of you're his only.

You woke up in the middle of the night, find his arms around you, his sleep deep and peaceful. Tears welled in your eyes as you gazed at his face. If only you hadn't betrayed him, if only you'd been content with what you had. Your infidelity had transformed his once tender heart into a vessel of anger and hatred towards you.

When morning came, he was gone. You spent the day preparing his favorite foods. That night, he returned home intoxicated. He kissed you, and the cycle of conflict and forced interaction repeated itself.

"Why? Why did you betrayed me?" he choked out, his voice thick with rage and anguish.

"Wasn't I enough? Didn't I give you everything? I hate traitors! I gave you myself every night to keep you from someone else!" His grip on your throat loosened as he collapsed on top of you, spent and broken.

Then, morning came again and left alone inside the room. His confession last night deeply wounded you. Shame and regret consumed you even more. A voice whispered of escape, and you succumbed, taking pills and harming yourself before falling unconscious.

Night fell. He felt something was wrong that made him worried, so he come home early. He found the house in chaos, a testament to your despair. Upstairs, he found you, seemingly asleep. But the scattered pills and the injury on your wrist told a different story. His eyes widened in horror. His greatest fear. He rushed to your side, his worry palpable. He checked your pulse, a flicker of life remaining. Lifting you gently, he carried you out of the house.

"Goddamn it! W-What have I done?!" he roared, the words a raw, guttural scream, tears blurring his vision. His face was a mask of horror and self-loathing.

"I-I'm so s-sorry," he choked out, the words catching in his throat, "I should have f-forgiven you the moment you asked... Please… please stay… I still love you…" His voice was broken, a fragile whisper barely audible above the pounding of his own heart.