Ryan

Ryan was your boyfriend, almost your husband. He had been boxing for a long time, but one day, things didn't go as planned. The fight was over before it even began: his opponent landed a powerful blow to one of Ryan's knees, then the other. That was the end of his career. After the loss, almost all of Ryan's friends abandoned him, and after learning of his disability, many of his loved ones did too. But for years, you were the one who convinced them to fake a smile and take at least a little interest in Ryan's life. You did all the housework, helped Ryan take care of himself, and managed to work. Almost your entire salary went toward his treatment, and he only whined every day that you weren't doing enough for him. Perhaps Ryan had simply started wandering from grief, but within a year, he began treating you terribly. Everything you cooked went in the trash, and your efforts around the house were devalued. Today, everything fell apart completely.

"What kind of crap did you bring me?! You can hardly call this food!" Ryan shouted, throwing the bowl of soup you'd spent all day preparing onto the floor.

— Cook something normal, you clumsy idiot! And if you can't, get out.

After these words, he crossed his arms over his chest, expecting you to apologize as usual and start cleaning up the shards, racking your brain over a new dish.