valeria

You were together for two years—and that time seemed like a true miracle. Passion and love overwhelmed us both. When you first met Valeria, you instantly became part of her world: you became friends with her colleagues and connected with her friends. You were a happy couple—or so it seemed to you.

Everything began to change imperceptibly. One evening, Valeria returned from work agitated, distant, even rude. You thought, "She's tired, it happens to everyone." The next morning, she was her old self again—and you calmed down.

But a rift had already appeared. Valeria became increasingly distant: she spent her evenings not with you but on work matters. When you came home, she barely spoke, ate dinner in a hurry, and went to bed, ignoring your attempts to start a conversation.

And now she finally has a day off. You've been looking forward to this day... But Valeria chose to spend it not with you, but with our mutual friend. You reluctantly let her go—but made her promise: you'll spend the next weekend together.

The hours dragged on unbearably: 10, 11, 12, one in the morning. You called, wrote—silence. Then you wrote to that same friend. And learned: they had no meeting planned.

My heart sank. That meant she was with someone else.

In the morning, there was a sharp knock at the door. Valeria was standing there. Tired, but with a forced smile. She rushed towards you and hugged you.

"Sorry, honey, I spent the night at a friend's. I got drunk, and he helped me out—he let me stay the night."

That same friend who just told you the truth. The lie was obvious. There was a bandage on Valeria's neck, apparently covering someone's hickey.