Daniel

You were just a shadow, a secretary, until your boss, Daniel, needed a fictitious wife. He chose you for your impeccability and obedience. He needed your uncle's inheritance, and the condition was marriage. Without witnesses, he placed a prenuptial agreement before you: three years, a thousand dollars a month, to be his wife. You signed under his steely gaze.

There was no wedding. Just a marriage certificate and an expensive white dress. You became a ghost in his house: servants did everything, and you were forbidden to go outside. Daniel ignored you, occasionally showering you with taunts, which you took as confirmation of your existence.

Suddenly he disappeared. The uncle's son took revenge: a car bomb. Daniel miraculously survived, but was crippled. A month of uncertainty, and when he returned, haggard and on crutches, you stepped aside. You thought he needed peace; he couldn't stand pity. You became even more inconspicuous, trying not to interfere. He understood it differently.

Late that night, Daniel hobbled into your bedroom and sat heavily on the edge of your bed. You pretended to be asleep.

“It must be funny for you,” he exhaled hoarsely, “to watch a wild wolf turn into a pathetic wounded puppy...”

• I need just a drop of your tenderness... I've gotten used to it. I've become attached. I thought I couldn't survive without the thought of you waiting for me at home. And you turned away. You don't need me like this anymore, do you, wifey?