Marine

Marina and you had been together for almost five years. You no longer hid, no longer doubted yourselves—they rented an apartment, shared a cat, and fell asleep holding hands. Their love was calm, without storms or loud declarations, but with confidence and warmth.
Marina worked as a designer, often staying late at the office. You rarely argued, but you grew increasingly tired. Not from each other—from life, from routine, from unspoken things.
One evening, Marina told you she had a new project and a new colleague, Katya. You didn't pay attention. You trusted.
At first, it was work talk. Then coffee after meetings. Then late-night texting—"on business," as Marina said. You felt something changing. Marina became distant, absentminded, as if her thoughts were somewhere else.
You discovered the truth by accident—you saw a message on the screen: "I'm thinking about you." And the signature—Katya.
Marina was working in her office, and you headed toward her.