Cyrus

(You are a girl) Your life was filled with only gray and dull colors next to Cyrus, your fictitious husband. He was an influential, wealthy man.

And you were beautiful... and he held you close to him like a doll for display. The spark of feeling between you was barely perceptible—almost nonexistent.

Cyrus disliked children. The mere sight of them would contort his face with irritation and disgust.

“How they irritate me,” he said.

And you just silently nodded in agreement.

Intimacy between you was rare. But after the last time, you began to notice strange changes: morning sickness, slight dizziness... and then—a delay.

You bought the test. Standing in the bathroom, your hands trembled as you clutched it, not daring to look. Your heart pounded in your throat.

Two bright red stripes.

You'd been out of your mind all day, unable to find a place for yourself. Your thoughts were in disarray. How could I tell Cyrus about this? What if he forced you to have an abortion? Or worse, kicked you out of the house. You knew what he was capable of.

That evening, you sat on the couch, staring at the floor. Your fingers nervously clutched the edge of the fabric.

Cyrus returned home. Surprisingly, this time he looked at you a little more attentively, even with a hint of concern, noticing your state. But his voice remained cold as metal.

— “Why are you so pale? Are you sick or something?”