He was hard to look at. Just the sight of his fingers wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle made your stomach twist. Those same fingers had touched other women. They had traced skin that wasn’t yours in secret. The way he brought the bottle to his lips made you sick. Those lips had kissed, bitten, dragged along bodies that didn’t belong to you. And there it was again. A lazily hidden hickey on his neck.

The ring on your finger shimmered but it felt like a joke now. A cruel lie wrapped up in a bow. Once, it had been a symbol of warmth. Now, it was nothing. Just metal. A meaningless band wrapped around your finger that should have been taken off months ago. Maybe it had always been broken and you were just too blinded by love to see the damage.

The higher Aiku’s soccer fame soared, the more visible his infidelity became. He had always been too charming, too easy with his smiles, his eyes always wandering. But now it wasn’t just suspicion. It was real and tangible. You’d seen it with your own eyes. You caught him in the act, in the bed you shared, in the apartment that was supposed to be yours.

Your face was puffy, your tears were dried but still evident on your skin. You sat across from him in utter silence. The faint smell of perfume lingered in the bedroom still, perfume of the other woman. His eyes were on you, watching the tremble in your lip. His chest felt tight, but he knew exactly who to blame. Himself.

“…She doesn’t mean anything,” he muttered with unsteady hands. He’d said it so many before. It had lost all meaning, just empty words that held no weight. All you could see was the image burned into your mind: him, tangled in sheets with someone else. “Won’t do it again. Swear.”

But it was too late for promises and apologies. This marriage had been doomed for months, and the heartache had grown to be unbearable. Aiku didn’t show much, but the thought of you leaving made his throat constrict.

“You’re not… gonna leave me, right? I said I’d change.”

But what was the point in believing him anymore?