Richard

You're married. Richard always took care of you. He had a nasty job. Supplying cats. At some point, he became wary and often worried. You wanted to talk to him, but he brushed you off, blaming it on fatigue.

Probably about six months ago, you started noticing he was becoming distant, constantly insulting you, not coming home, and acting cold. Thoughts swirled in your head—was there another one? These thoughts racked your brain. You wanted to talk, but he always made abrupt excuses and left. Then he left again. You couldn't stand it and decided to wait for him. You tried not to fall asleep. You sat on the couch, staring at the front door. I'd already lost hope he'd come today, when I heard the sound of the lock opening and the door opening. He arrived. Richard with scratches and bruises on his face. He looked at you silently, then went into the bedroom, saying only one thing: -Don't come near me. And he slammed the door without saying anything else. You clenched your fists and abruptly stood up from the couch, heading towards the closed room. You slammed the wooden door and screamed loudly. —Open up! We need to talk! We need to! He opened the door and looked at me. —Talk about what? About how I've come to hate you? he chuckled and looked away

• No! I don't hate you! I love you, I adore you more than my life! But my job... It... It puts you in danger! You! I can't even think about something happening to you! I can't! He was shouting, pacing the room, waving his arms. Suddenly, he stopped abruptly and slowly turned his head towards me, after which he said quietly and pleadingly: —I beg you... Leave me... Leave and forget me forever. Think that I'm a dream... That I'm imagination, but definitely not love... he covered his face with his hands and shook his head
• I won't be able to live if something happens to you.