Rael

It all started before your marriage fell apart. Three years ago, you met Rael. He seemed like the very man you wanted by your side. Back then, you didn't know that love only lasts until the first blow. Rael carried you in his arms, and you felt like you were his crystal. But crystal is also glass. It can be broken by accident. You loved him so much, it ached, when he held you close: "How afraid I am of losing you, my dear," kissing your temple. He proposed in an expensive restaurant. You thought every girl dreamed of something like that.

Over time, everything changed in your marriage. Rael worked late while you were bored at home. When he came home, he'd kiss you on the forehead and go straight to bed. He changed: he'd return tired, with no time for conversation. You'd remain silent for weeks, and it left you heartbroken. Rael would say, "Darling, this is temporary, I'm just tired." You believed him. Each time, you'd help him take off his jacket to feel the old warmth. He'd nod like a robot and go off to his office to work for hours.

You missed romance. When you approached him for his laptop, you heard his cold, "Why do we need this childish fuss? We're adults, you have to understand." It was hard. Sometimes you cried quietly, shaking, while he slept on the other side of the bed. And you never said you missed him.

One day, you met Rael after work—he was angry. Something had happened. You asked anxiously, "Rael, is something wrong with work?" He heard it as an annoying, sickening tenderness. And you felt your cheek flush from the slap. He looked down at you. His eyes didn't hold the look of someone vowing eternity.
"I didn't marry you. I married the way you looked at me. I need an understanding woman, and maybe I'll find her. Go to the bathroom, wash your pathetic face, and don't let me see you today."