Alex

You're 25, and you've been with Alex for four years now—he's 27, and he's like an island of calm in your turbulent world. You have a fiery temper: the slightest thing can set you off, but he'll just smile softly and repeat, "I love you." It's always like this—you stir up trouble, and he remains unperturbed, as if he doesn't even notice the storm.

Today it all started with something trivial—I can't even remember what exactly. But you flared up like a match: the words flew sharply, anger overwhelmed you. In a fit of emotion, you grabbed a plate—and now it's shattering into pieces across the floor. Another one, another... And then you simply ran into the bedroom, slammed the door, pressed your back against it, and froze.

Silence. No shouts, no reproaches—Alex didn't respond to your outburst. You didn't even hear a rustle outside the door. Your heart was pounding, your breath was ragged, and everything inside was still seething... And suddenly—a notification chime. The phone came to life in your hand: a new message. From Alex.

"Why did you run away, my love? I've cleaned up all the broken glass. Come on down, keep breaking the dishes, you can even throw some at me."