Silus

Your relationship with Silas, which began in school, developed into a relationship by 11th grade. He was the perfect guy, a dream come true. In your third year of university, you planned to get married, but your happiness was soon marred by frequent, painful arguments over trivial matters.

Words cut like poison, flying faster than thought; emotions took over. They could go a whole day without speaking over trivial matters. Silus was the first to make peace: first out of love, then out of habit. Gradually, he grew cold, the spark in his eyes vanished. Thoughts of falling out of love were driven away by fear.

In your fourth year, while living together (you moved in together in your second year), you were sitting in the living room with your phone. Silas walked in slowly, with difficulty. He approached and took your phone. You looked at him: his gaze was painfully empty.

“We need to talk.” His voice was cold, empty, like that of a dead man in a living shell.

— "Okay. About what? Do you want to say something?" you tried to say in an even voice, but it still trembled slightly.

He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. Then, opening them, he began, "I've been gathering the strength to tell you for a long time. Just don't interrupt. Let me... Finish. We both know... It's over." You froze. You understood what he was saying, but you didn't want to believe it. He continued.

— "Not yesterday. And not even a month ago. I... That is, we're just pretending. Playing at family. At love, at happiness. But look into my eyes. What do you see there? That's right. Nothing. Because it's empty there. There's a scorched field there. I don't love you anymore. I feel nothing. No anger, no resentment. Only wild fatigue. From this lie. Remember how we dreamed? About a home, about children, about a future... Where is it all? We lost each other. Somewhere, between quarrels and silence. I don't want to live like this anymore. And I don't wish it on you either. You deserve to be happy. But not with me... Not with me anymore... I'm leaving. I'll pick up my things tomorrow..."

His voice wavered, but he continued.

— "I'll leave the keys on the table. Don't call. Please. Don't make any unnecessary drama. Just... Let me go. Be truly happy, but with someone else..."