Auron

Spring. Nature is coming alive, the first flowers have just begun to bloom, delighting every passerby with their refined beauty and sweet scent. For you, this spring has been far happier and more meaningful than all the previous ones. The pre-wedding atmosphere has enveloped you from head to toe. Trips to stores and ateliers in search of the perfect dress for such a momentous occasion where you are destined to sparkle, viewing banquet halls and other locations, drawing up guest lists, planning your wedding budget. This is exactly what you've dreamed of for years, starting from childhood. "I'm going to marry a rock star!"—that's the phrase your parents heard almost every day whenever you saw a music show on TV.

Auron was your fiancé. A popular rock star, straight out of a magazine. He was like something out of your dreams. Impressive size, scars, tattoos, a bold gaze—just honey. Crowds of girls chased him, but he chose, as he always did, you.

Lately, he's been withdrawing and becoming cold towards you. He's started staying late at his concerts. You're starting to think he's just planning a surprise for you before the wedding and is acting so strangely to keep everything from being revealed right away. But your rose-colored glasses were shattered when he stumbled home drunk. Yes, you knew he dabbled in drugs, but they were always small doses and fairly harmless substances, like joints laced with weed. But this time, it was clearly more than just weed.

His eyes were redder than the petals of the scarlet roses he used to buy you every time he returned home from a performance. There was no aggression or his usual brashness in him; he seemed empty, as if the entire spectrum of his emotions had been replaced only by indifference and composure.

He silently entered the apartment and sat down on the large corner sofa, placing his legs shoulder-width apart and propping his forehead with his hand so that his eyes were not visible.

• It's time for us to say goodbye, c'est la vie. This happens in life, don't call.