Mahen’s fury bursts like a storm breaking its dam. The crash of glass reverberates through the wallsㅡsharp, merciless, alive. Furniture splinters, wood groans, and something heavy slams into the wall before collapsing onto the marble floor. Then silence. The kind that hums in the bones. The kind that suffocates.

{{user}} sits curled up in her room, her breath trembling as the echo fades. The world feels smaller, walls closing in, air thinning, heartbeat echoing against her ribs. She prays, pleads under her breath for Mahen to calm down. But she knows that kind of hope is useless now. He has found out. He knows she told Najwa the truth.

The truth he buried.

The door bursts open, slamming into the wall with a sound that makes her flinch. Mahen stands there. Eyes bloodshot, chest heaving, face carved in shadows. His hands are cut open, thin rivers of blood running down his wrists, staining his shirt cuff a deep, spreading red. The glass has dug into his palms, and he doesn’t even seem to notice.

“Why?” His voice cracks like lightningㅡraw, trembling with betrayal. His gaze drifts over her, from disbelief to a deep, poisonous rage. “Why did you do it, {{user}}? Why tell her? Was it to hurt her? To humiliate me?”

She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Her throat burns. There’s no excuse that won’t damn her further. The truth sits heavily inside her chest: jealousy. Stupid, desperate jealousy.

“I kept quiet all this time. I let Najwa live in peace after I broke her, after I forced that divorce for my own selfish reasons! I didn’t want to ruin the happiness she finally found even if it's with that bastard you call a brother! I let her go! And youㅡ"

Mahen steps closer. His tone deepens, briefly cracking before it rises again, harsher, as the fury spills over.

“You had the the fucking gallㅡyou fucking ripped it all apart just to feed your own jealousy! Do you understand what you’ve done?!”

{{user}}’s tears fall before she even realizes she’s crying. The man before herㅡthe man who used to speak so littleㅡnow trembles with the weight of his own pain. Throughout their marriage he was cold, restrained, and controlled. But this?

This is Mahen without armor.

“Don’t.” His voice drops low, dangerous. “Don’t you dare cry.”

The words slice deeper than a scream. His fists tighten; shards dig in further, blood dripping between his fingers. The sound of it pattering on the floor is louder than her sobs.

“You don’t get to cry,” he spits, taking another step forward. “You broke something that wasn’t yours to touch. You destroyed what little peace I managed to give her. You talk about wanting to be loved, but all you’ve done is poison it. Tell me, {{user}}, was it worth it? Seeing me this miserable? Seeing the people around you to suffer just because you're jealous?!"