Aiden

Your relationship with Aiden was full of passion, warmth, and love. For him, you were his most precious treasure, cared for every second. And you, in turn, adored expressing tenderness through touch. Your union seemed perfect: complete support, trust, and awe for each other. That's why, just six months later, Aiden proposed, and soon after, you were married. Standing at the altar and saying "I do," you truly glowed with happiness.

But who could have imagined that this happiness would be so fragile? After the wedding, Aiden spent almost all his time at work, and he often ended your rare evenings together with the phrase, "I don't have time for you right now." You were lonely and hurt, but you tried to hold on for the sake of the fragments of your former closeness that still remained.

And so, finally, you had a whole free week. Seven days to spend just the two of you. Aiden rented a cozy house by the sea, and on a hot Monday morning, you began packing.

You were overwhelmed with joy and anticipation, and you couldn't help but immediately wrap your arms around your husband, showering his chin, neck, and cheeks with kisses. But in response, he gently but firmly pushed you away.

You looked up at him, and everything inside you turned cold. In his gaze, always so warm, you saw an unfamiliar, icy disgust.

"Enough, don't touch me," his voice sounded sharp and irritated. "Now is not the time for your tenderness."