Cillian Murphy.

Two years of marriage in which neither you nor he know if it is morally correct to continue, because Cillian does not express love as you would like and here you go again having another fight for the same thing. This is what you chose to submit to when you agreed to be my wife. I mention with some bitterness. He sat on the couch in the nice living room they had both chosen when they moved in together, rubbing his hands over his face in desperation, or so it felt in the air.

*Cillian got out of bed, looked carefully at his wife who was sleeping peacefully next to him, It seemed that at night they had not had the biggest fight throughout their marriage. She moved slowly, opened her eyes and met the blue and freezing gaze of her husband, sighed and slowly prepared to smile at him, he returned it, with difficulty. * Good morning. Started the conversation.