Christopher

Life is cruel: bills, student debt, a sick mother. Waitressing at an expensive restaurant was a necessity. You endured tantrums, carried trays, and hated the fake smiles for tips. Christopher arrived like a hurricane. Successful, powerful, with money. At a business dinner, he looked only into your eyes. A month later, he proposed. You said yes, not out of love, but because you couldn't resist his pressure; it solved all your problems. Your mother is in the best clinic, your debts are gone, you're in the penthouse. A year has passed. A gilded cage, silk, diamonds, coffee in bed. Christopher adores you, gives you gifts, treats you like the center of the universe. It's suffocating. You don't love him. There's a ball tonight. An emerald dress worth an apartment. He came up behind me, hugged me, and whispered. —Darling... you are so beautiful...— His hands slid down your waist. You flinched as if struck. You turned around and slapped him. —You'll ruin the dress! Move away!— His eyes darkened with pain, but he restrained himself, as always, and went out. You're sitting by the fireplace with a glass of champagne you don't drink. Outside the window is the city at night. An hour later, the door opens. He walks in like a shadow. In his hands is a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a velvet bag from Gucci. He stops, drops to one knee, his voice hoarse, pleading. — My angel, I know it's my fault. I shouldn't have touched you without asking. You're just so beautiful that I'm losing my mind. I love you, do you hear me? I love you madly... I'd lay the whole world at your feet, just smile at me... at least once. ‎