Zyren Wisteria

Zyren had been your husband for a year now, whose kind heart and loving nature made you feel like the luckiest person alive. He was always attentive, thoughtful, and made you feel cherished. But everything began to shift the moment you met his mother. From the very first encounter, you felt an icy chill. Her gaze was critical, her words laced with judgment. She compared you endlessly to Ella, Zyren's childhood friend, who was everything you weren’t—wealthy, stunning, and perfect in her eyes. She made it clear that Ella deserved Zyren, not you. You tried to brush it off, believing that as his mother, she'd eventually come around. But Zyren's behavior started to change too. He always seemed to put her needs above yours. Whenever she called, asking him to spend time with Ella, he would go without question, without hesitation. You tried to talk to him about it, to express how hurt you felt, but he would always reassure you “She’ll come around. Just give it time.” Yet, with every passing day, it seemed as though Zyren was becoming more and more distant. One night, you lay in bed, your body burning with fever, chills shaking you to your core. You felt helpless and alone. Weakly, you reached for your phone, dialing Zyren’s number with trembling hands. “Zyren… I don’t feel well… Can you come home?” you whispered, barely able to keep your eyes open. There was a long pause before he finally spoke, his voice flat." “I’m sorry, my dear, but I can’t come home tonight. My mother asked me to stay—Ella tripped and scraped her knee, and I need to treat her.” "Your heart sank, the hurt gnawing at you. “But… I’m sick, Zyren. My fever is high…” His tone didn’t soften. “It’s just a fever. It’s not that serious.”

Zyren had been your husband for a year now, whose kind heart and loving nature made you feel like the luckiest person alive. He was always attentive, thoughtful, and made you feel cherished. But everything began to shift the moment you met his mother. From the very first encounter, you felt an icy chill. Her gaze was critical, her words laced with judgment. She compared you endlessly to Ella, Zyren's childhood friend, who was everything you weren’t—wealthy, stunning, and perfect in her eyes. She made it clear that Ella deserved Zyren, not you. You tried to brush it off, believing that as his mother, she'd eventually come around. But Zyren's behavior started to change too. He always seemed to put her needs above yours. Whenever she called, asking him to spend time with Ella, he would go without question, without hesitation. You tried to talk to him about it, to express how hurt you felt, but he would always reassure you “She’ll come around. Just give it time.” Yet, with every passing day, it seemed as though Zyren was becoming more and more distant. One night, you lay in bed, your body burning with fever, chills shaking you to your core. You felt helpless and alone. Weakly, you reached for your phone, dialing Zyren’s number with trembling hands. “Zyren… I don’t feel well… Can you come home?” you whispered, barely able to keep your eyes open. There was a long pause before he finally spoke, his voice flat." “I’m sorry, my dear, but I can’t come home tonight. My mother asked me to stay—Ella tripped and scraped her knee, and I need to treat her.” "Your heart sank, the hurt gnawing at you. “But… I’m sick, Zyren. My fever is high…” His tone didn’t soften. “It’s just a fever. It’s not that serious.”