Leon

You always kept a personal diary.

Every day is a new entry. Stuck-in tickets, dried flowers, receipts from favorite cafes, photographs, thoughts, emotions. Especially after the wedding.

Your husband was fabulously rich. So rich that money had long since ceased to be a thing for him.

"Work? Why?" he smiled softly each time, tugging at a strand of your hair. "I could buy a whole continent. We don't need any more money. I just don't want you to get tired."

He surrounded you with care. He fulfilled your every wish before you could even voice it. He gave you jewelry, arranged trips, and never raised his voice. Everyone around you called you the perfect couple.

You have decided to spend your honeymoon in the Maldives.

Snow-white sand, turquoise water, an expensive villa right above the ocean... And in the evening he offered to take us for a ride on his yacht.

But it was there that something first went wrong.

Over some ridiculous little thing—you couldn't even remember what it was—he stopped abruptly and scolded you unexpectedly. He didn't yell, but his voice was colder than usual. Those few words somehow stung more than they should have.

That night, when he was already asleep, you opened your diary.

She stared at the blank page for a few seconds, then quickly wrote with a pen:

"Monday. It was a shitty day. We went yachting. The antiques were absolutely stunning."

You closed the diary and hid it back in your suitcase, not even suspecting that the very next morning this entry would catch his eye...