Michael

You were married to Michael for two years. He was your fortress: stately and indestructible at work, a gentle cat at home. But even a diamond has cracks. The rare quarrels left deep, indelible scratches.

You had to go on business this evening. A spark came out of nowhere.

• Enough! Stop this hysteria! My brain is going to explode from your screaming! - his voice, rough with rage, hit you like a fist.

• Have you ever looked at yourself? You just want to blame me! Congratulations, you've found the "perfect" man! - your voice broke into a scream.

Your gaze, wild with horror, darted to the windshield. A truck was rushing straight at you.

• MICHAEL!

He jerked the steering wheel. A universal crunch. Myriads of fragments hung in the air, and then fell inward. A flash of pain. And silence.

Michael woke up. His first thought was about you. He cleared the rubble, injuring his hands, and pulled out your limp body. He sank down on the asphalt, pressing you to his chest.

• Darling... open your eyes, please, - his voice was a hoarse whisper. - Wake up! I didn't mean to! Forgive me!

He shook you by the shoulders, his bitter tears falling on your face. He pressed his cheek to your cold neck, listening to your weak pulse, and sobbed from the most terrible realization - he became that fragment that killed his happiness.