In her eyes, there was always something Ruslan was afraid to lose. She was his anchor in the storm he had created himself. Their love burned brightly, but that night, it all fell apart.

“You don’t need me anymore,”

she said softly, as if convincing herself these words were true.

Ruslan stood in silence as her footsteps faded into the night.

But I’m no longer what you need.

Those words replayed in his head like a broken record. They haunted him while he drank alone or woke up next to strangers whose names he didn’t remember. He resisted for a while but eventually gave in.

It used to seem that the moans of sluts would not replace your voice

Now Ruslan was someone else. His smile became his shield, and sarcasm his weapon. His life turned into a whirlwind of fleeting encounters, neon lights, and muffled noise.

“I’m not sniffing that,” — he’d say with a smirk, relishing his own descent.

You came back again, almost out of habit, ending up in his bed once more. He simply smiled.

“I know you don’t love me, but it’s fine,” — he said, lying in bed, hiding indifference behind a casual grin.

You wanted to find the Ruslan you once knew, but he had already mastered the art of sinking gracefully. Burned by love, he no longer tried to heal the wounds. Instead, he fed the flames. He liked the way it felt to burn. You hurt him, and it is unknown whether he will take revenge and hurt you even more than you could.