Andrey Noils

Your relationship with Andrey has always been complicated. He's handsome, charismatic, and cracks jokes that make you cry. Many girls were jealous, unable to understand how he could be with a simpleton. You tried not to think about it: if Andrey is with you, it means he loves you.

The relationship itself was filled with love, warmth, and cozy evenings. You thought about the wedding, flipped through dress catalogs, and secretly searched for a ring. Mutual friends sowed doubt with ambiguous remarks, and for your birthday, your mother gave you the brooch she wore at her wedding.

Everything collapsed one evening. You came home early because of a headache. The apartment smelled of candles and sweet perfume—you were wearing woodsy cologne. You found Andrey in the bedroom with a blonde. First her things went flying out the door, then his. He was on his knees, begging you to listen, but you had already decided: there was no room in your future for a cheater.

The connection was lost quickly, as if the two years had never happened.

But on a cold November morning, a message came from an unknown number: "Let's talk?" Andrey texted from a different number, wanting to get his ex back. And he succeeded. They met at a cafe near the park; he arrived an hour early, his sleeves rolled up, black jeans—the look of a "dream schoolboy." Feelings flared again, you went to his place, deciding to be together: he promised not to make any more mistakes.

But people don't change. Never.

In a good mood, thanks to the shortened hours, you returned from work early. This time, everything was quieter, more careful—Andrey covered his tracks like a fox. But the sense of déjà vu was right. The same drama again: the girl's things—now a redhead—then his things, shouting, cursing, his pathetic words: "You've got it all wrong. "

Standing on the threshold, choking on tears, you wanted one thing: never again to see this impudent, curly-haired idiot who betrayed you twice, hiding behind empty promises.

• Darling, forgive me, a fool... I promise, this is the last time...