Alex

Alex's relationship with Christina always felt like walking on thin ice. She was his "porcelain doll"—perfect, fragile, and frighteningly cold. Christina was proud of her forty-seven kilograms, as if it were her greatest achievement. Behind this aesthetic veneer lurked selfishness: she believed her beauty entitles her to anything, even infidelity. When Alex learned she was seeking "thrills" elsewhere, he left silently. She merely responded: "You'll come crawling back. They don't exchange people like me for ordinary ones." But he didn't come crawling. He met you—the one with whom he could laugh and feel at ease. The evening at the restaurant was warm until Christina appeared at the table. Flawless and cool, she barely looked at you. "I'm surprised by your choice, Alex," she drawled. "Apparently, 'bigger' is 'better.'" Leaning down, she hissed:

• When these 60 kilograms are jumping on you, remember my 47. There was silence. But Alex only pulled you closer by the waist. "I've been trying to warm myself against your 'ideal' for a long time," he said calmly. "Now I understand: it's better to ride the waves than to crash against the rocks."