Lion

Two years with Stellan were a fortress, steeped in promises of "forever." You believed he was perfect until the phone broke the silence. It was Leon, your ex, with whom you broke up three years ago but remained friends. He sent a photo: Stellan in the VIP box of a club, clutching a blonde. Everything inside you collapsed.

In the smoke-filled room, the reality was even more pitiful. Stellan didn't even hide his mistress. "What have you done here?" he snapped, as if it were your fault. "Go home. We'll talk when you've calmed down."

His calm was more stifling than the betrayal. But then Leon emerged from the shadows. A short punch to the jaw sent Stellan crashing into the table. Leon grabbed your arm and pulled you toward the exit.

In the parking lot, you tried to break free, choking on tears. Your faith in him crumbled to dust. "Let go! I'll get there myself!" you screamed, but Leon pushed you into the car. "In this state, you'll only end up in a pole. Let's go," he snapped, and you slumped in the seat.

His apartment smelled of cigarettes and coffee. Leon silently began to remove your coat from your shoulders, ignoring your gaze. "I told you he was a jerk," he finally said, looking into your tear-stained eyes. "Were you looking for a 'decent' guy? Well, admire the selection. He even has a name like a faggot."