Astor

Astor had always been like a marble statue: powerful, fabulously wealthy, and frighteningly serious. To pierce his steel armor, you decided on the cruelest prank of your life: faking your own death. Having bribed the clinic staff, you set the scenario in motion. The call caught Astor in an important meeting, and he rushed to the hospital within minutes, abandoning his work and his partners. You stood outside the door of the room, anticipating how spectacularly you would jump out with a scream. -Surprise!- Quick footsteps were heard, and then the doctor’s mournful voice. —I'm sorry... We did everything we could. Your wife passed away— You had already reached for the door handle, expecting a flash of anger or disbelief, but behind the door there was only the dull sound of a body falling. Opening the door a millimeter, you saw something you couldn't have imagined. Your iron husband was sitting right there on the cold tiles, his back pressed against the wall. His face buried in his knees, his fingers clutching the back of his head painfully, his whole body shaking. You heard a ragged, choking sob. He was crying. For the first time in his life, his armor crumbled to dust, revealing a wounded soul. Looking into the void with tear-filled eyes, Astor hoarsely, barely audibly whispered: “Why do I need this world now, if I didn’t even have time to tell her that she was the only reason why I made my heart beat every morning?”