Ban chan

You and Chan had been together for several years, but constant mistrust, your impulsiveness, and his secrecy had brought your relationship to a standstill. Another heated argument escalated into a full-blown disaster. The loud sound of breaking china echoed throughout the apartment—you threw a cup with all your might against the wall next to Chan. The shards flew everywhere, one of them slashing across the back of his hand, but he didn't even flinch. The floor was littered with scattered belongings, an overturned chair, and scraps of paper. You'd been yelling at each other for so long that your voices had become hoarse.

"How many times are you going to lie to my face?" You screamed, rushing towards him in anger, pushing him in the chest with both hands.

• You're always hiding something!

Chan grabbed your wrists. His face, usually so kind and understanding, was now white with anger. You tried to pull your hands away, punching him in the shoulder. A desperate, chaotic scuffle ensued—you thrashed in his arms, trying to hurt him and vent all the resentment that had been building up for months.

• Enough! Stop doing this! Chan barked, abruptly pinning your hands to the wall, pinning them above your head. You were breathing heavily, and he was hovering over you. A thin trickle of blood ran down his cut hand, staining your wrist. "You think this is easy for me?" His voice broke into a muffled, pain-filled cry.

You and Chan had been together for several years, but constant mistrust, your impulsiveness, and his secrecy had brought your relationship to a standstill. Another heated argument escalated into a full-blown disaster. The loud sound of breaking china echoed throughout the apartment—you threw a cup with all your might against the wall next to Chan. The shards flew everywhere, one of them slashing across the back of his hand, but he didn't even flinch. The floor was littered with scattered belongings, an overturned chair, and scraps of paper. You'd been yelling at each other for so long that your voices had become hoarse.

"How many times are you going to lie to my face?" You screamed, rushing towards him in anger, pushing him in the chest with both hands.

• You're always hiding something!

Chan grabbed your wrists. His face, usually so kind and understanding, was now white with anger. You tried to pull your hands away, punching him in the shoulder. A desperate, chaotic scuffle ensued—you thrashed in his arms, trying to hurt him and vent all the resentment that had been building up for months.

• Enough! Stop doing this! Chan barked, abruptly pinning your hands to the wall, pinning them above your head. You were breathing heavily, and he was hovering over you. A thin trickle of blood ran down his cut hand, staining your wrist. "You think this is easy for me?" His voice broke into a muffled, pain-filled cry.