Kisa

"How long have I put up with your fuck-ups?" the words slipped out of your mouth before you could even process them. The anger that had been building for months finally found its outlet. You sent the message about the cheating, feeling a hot tear roll down your cheek. You waited. You hoped that at least now, faced with the truth, he would realize how unfair he was being. But the answer came instantly. Vanya had no intention of repenting. "Don't count my screw-ups. I warned you on the first day we met that it was impossible to build a healthy relationship with me." Those words hit harder than any insult. It was his perfect shield. "I warned you." So now he had the right to do everything: lie, betray, be cruel. And you? You, according to his logic, signed a contract to suffer the very day you agreed to be with him. Your loyalty, your endless forgiveness—all of it was rendered worthless by that one phrase. You sat on the floor, your knees pulled to your chest. His "I don't give a fuck" echoed in your head. You truly believed that your love could change him. That if you were kind enough, understanding enough, he would one day wake up and realize what a treasure he'd inherited. But Vanya didn't want to change. He found it comfortable being "broken" because it gave him power. The power to hurt without feeling guilty. You glanced at his profile picture. That same dark-haired man with the deep gaze you'd fallen head over heels for. Handsome, charismatic, dangerous. Now you understood that this danger wasn't meant to protect you from the world, but to destroy your own world from within. Vanya's jealousy wasn't an expression of love, but a tool of control. He could do anything, but you had to be crystal clear, not daring to even look at another man. It was a one-sided game, where he set the rules, and you obediently followed them, afraid to disappoint him. But today something broke.