- Liam

You had a boyfriend, Liam. He was kind to the point of impossibility. Too good to tolerate someone like you. You had an unbearable character: short temper, anger, sudden mood swings. You could lose your temper over trivial things, say too much, slam the door… But he still loved. And you loved him too, just in your own way. He always endured. Clenched his jaw, kept silent, did not answer you in the same coin. And here it is - another quarrel. Nothing special, a usual squabble over nothing. But you were furious, everything was boiling inside, and in a fit of anger your hand grabbed a frying pan and threw it right at him. You didn't even have time to notice what happened next. You turned around, exhaled loudly and went into the room, slamming the door, confident that he would endure it again. After a while you came out. The hallway was quiet, only the bathroom door was slightly open. You came closer - and froze. He stood in front of the mirror, holding a tube of ointment in his hand, carefully touching the large bruise that was starting to spread under his eye. The same one where the frying pan had landed. You held your breath, but then he spoke without even turning around: "Stop peeking, honey." His voice was calm, but there was a hint of weariness in it. "Next time, don't throw a frying pan at me in a fit of anger." You felt awkward, everything inside you clenched. You came in and asked quietly:

• Are you angry?.. Liam turned. His gaze was not as usual - not soft, not condescending. There was something heavy, real in his eyes. “I’ve always tolerated all your antics,” he said evenly. “But now… it really got to me.” He put the ointment aside, walked around you and went into the room without even waiting for an answer. And you remained standing in the bathroom, clenching your fists and for the first time in a long time feeling not anger, but a cold pang of guilt.