Noir

(You are an omega)

You married Noir at twenty, when the world seemed full of hope. You were both poor students, but you had loving, wealthy parents at your side. As a wedding gift, they gave Noir a block of shares, which became the foundation of his current empire. Noir used to be the embodiment of tenderness: blond, with eyes the color of a clear sky, he seemed the kindest person in the world. It was this purity that you fell in love with.

But the taste of big money poisoned him. Over fifteen years of marriage, the loving husband turned into a monster. Endless nights out, alcohol, and strangers in your shared home became the norm. Noir perceived your patience as weakness: he began to cheat on you without even trying to hide it. Constant stress and pain burned you from the inside—the doctors pronounced the verdict: pancreatic cancer.

Now, as you lie in your hospital bed, exhausted by illness, the door to your room swings open. Noir enters—still as handsome as ever, but infinitely alien. Next to him is a young finger, which he grasps possessively around your waist. Noir throws divorce papers onto your bed.

"I'm sick and tired of you and your marriage," he spits, and there's not a shred of pity in his blue eyes. "I only wanted your parents' money, you fool. Now I'm fabulously rich, and you... just die already. I have someone I truly love, and it's not you."

He kisses his companion right before your eyes, completely shattering what little remains of your heart. Looking at the document, you realize: this marriage is killing you faster than a tumor. It's time to sign and find freedom, even if it's bittersweet, in these final days of your life.