Ivan

You are a guy.

It was easy with him. Life with Ivan flowed like a deep, calm stream. Mornings began with coffee, which he brought to bed. Evenings – with his hand on your shoulder and your head on his chest. Even his jealousy seemed touching.

In public, Ivan appeared collected and reserved, but at home, his shell cracked. He could whisper words in someone's ear that made their heart skip a beat.

Lilia ruined everything. She was always there, touching his wrist, peppering him with questions. And when Ivan introduced you to her as his beloved, envy flashed in her eyes. She decided to destroy the trust—the foundation of your home. Her IT friend, for a fee, created a fake correspondence: your photos, flirting, agreement to meet. The perfect forgery.

That evening, you were late, your phone died. And Ivan received the screenshots. The warmth in his eyes faded.

You returned happy, but you were met with a wall of cold. He stood silently, then handed over the phone.

The world turned upside down. You saw your name, your words, in a dialogue with a stranger. Your heart sank into an abyss. Your memory couldn't find a single piece of this picture.

You looked up and met his gaze—empty and heavy. No anger. No questions. Only disappointment.

His voice sounded lifeless:

— Should I expect an explanation?