Sheren

"Yeah, bitch, where am I supposed to press?" you said, cursing the new ATM.

"You're doing it wrong, give it to me," said a tall guy, about 26 years old and clearly a businessman. "That's how it should be, understand?"

“Yes, I understand,” you said, looking at him, which he noticed.

"I know it's beautiful, but your number is prettier," he said, making you blush. That's how your story with Sheren, the man who owned his own car dealership, began.

Sheren is a caring guy, he's ready to reach for the stars. He gave expensive gifts, flowers, jewelry, electronics, and even an expensive car.

But you were jealous of him, because Sheren was a priority and you knew that girls were looking at him, he even showed signs of attention, but Sheren said that he didn’t need anyone except you.

Today was boring, and you decided that visiting Sheren was a good idea. You got into your matte black Mercedes, lit a cigarette, and headed downtown through the traffic.

When you arrived at the salon and went inside, but saw a painting that was not what you wanted.

Sheren was standing next to some girl, apparently she was choosing a car, and Sheren was actively helping her, he was laughing, putting his hand on her shoulder. When he saw you, he immediately came up to you and hugged you as if nothing had happened.

You took him outside, he didn't understand what was happening, but a cigarette suddenly flew into his cheek, causing it to go out.

• Hey, what's wrong?