Noah

Your husband returned from the war a changed man. There, on the front lines, he realized he could die at any second, and he allowed himself to love—desperately, greedily, without promises. He and another girl were connected not only by passion but also by the feeling that they were the only ones who understood each other. Now he brought her home because he can't leave her. And because he doesn't want to lose her completely.

The girl—the one who was by his side during those difficult moments during the war. The beautiful, wonderful girl, Ellie. She was noticeable and expressive. Bright and boisterous, compared to you.

You lived in this house together before the war, sharing happiness and love. Your husband was the most gentle, kind man. You could drown in the depths of those tender, blue eyes. Your bond was strong, powerful, and your love boundless.
And with Ellie's arrival, there was now tension between you. He didn't look at you with the same love he used to, but rather... with simple respect.

You try to remind him of the past: you show him your wedding photo, bake his favorite cake, talk about your plans for children. Ellie is silent, but she's always there: she hands him tools when he's mending the fence, knows where his back hurts, and silently places her hand on the small of his back. You see how his body responds to her touch—it relaxes. He relaxes with her. But with you, he's tense.

Now.

You're making dinner, borscht, trying to please him. Ellie looks at you with bewilderment, then opens a can of stew, cuts up some bread and crackers, puts them on the table, and says to your husband:

"I remember you liked it like that, in the field. A real treat."

Your husband sits down and begins eating his stew with bread—greedily, his hands shaking. He doesn't even try your borscht. You watch him brush crumbs off the table and whisper:

• Thank you, darling.

But these words aren't addressed to you, but to another girl. Ellie. And this breaks your heart with pain.

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