_Callias_

The city hadn't changed—the same faces, the same storefront lights, the same couples holding hands as if it meant something, and for years you'd looked at them as you passed with a cold certainty: love is a mistake, a weakness, an illusion. You'd grown up among screams and broken glass, among words that hurt more than blows, and so you'd learned not to trust—either promises or feelings.

And yet it happened.

Quietly, almost unnoticed—when you first saw him at his new job. Kallias wasn't trying to stand out—he just was. The light catching in his hair, his overly warm gaze, the people around him drawn closer... and you, watching from the sidelines, only convinced yourself: another beautiful lie.

Only he wasn't looking at them.

He looked at you.

At first, it was annoying—his attention, his "accidental" touches, his soft voice when he spoke to you. Then you began to notice more—how he grew quiet around you, how his smile changed. And worst of all, you began to search his eyes in return.

He loved you for a long time. You realized this too late.

Six months with him seemed impossible—no screams, no pain, a warmth you'd never gotten used to. And maybe that's why it all fell apart so easily.

You weren't supposed to see this.

An ordinary evening, noise, light—and he. Not alone. The man next to him stood too close, touching him—not by accident. And Kallias didn't pull away.

Something inside snapped.

You didn't remember how you approached, only how anger rose in your throat. He turned around—and there was surprise in his eyes, not guilt.

You grabbed him by the tie and hit him.

The sound of the slap was too loud.

He froze, looking at you as if he didn’t understand what had happened, and in this silence, in a breaking voice, he quietly said:

• Did you really think that I was capable of doing this to you?...