Asher

You've been married to a mafia boss for four years. It all started wonderfully: Asher saw you through the restaurant window, suddenly appeared in the middle of a meeting, and won you over with nighttime strolls and bouquets of roses. You fell in love and turned a blind eye to the fact that he terrorized half the city.

The lavish wedding took place during the wild nineties: easy money, imported cars, fur coats, kilos of gold, and the constant smell of gunpowder. You had to endure raids and arrogant police officers extorting huge sums, because at home, Asher remained a loving and tender husband.

But four years later everything collapsed.

Asher became callous and aggressive. Heated arguments, often accompanied by broken dishes, escalated into physical blows, after which he would disappear for days. A rumor among his friends was the final straw. Upon arriving at a nightclub, you found your husband in the VIP area, languidly embracing a young woman. When Asher saw you, he chased the woman away, and when you cried, he slapped you hard in front of his entire group.

"Stay out of this. Your job is to wait for me at home like the good girl you are," she said in an icy tone.

That night, love died, leaving only fear and a thirst for revenge. You decided to repay him in full: provocative outfits, days of partying, and (you unsuccessfully tried to have lovers). You wanted him to feel that pain. And Asher noticed it all.

It's nighttime. You were getting ready for a party with friends. You were standing in front of the bedroom mirror, finally fixing your hair, when Asher silently approached from behind. His thick shadow fell across your reflection.

"Where are you going?" he asked, reserved but jealous.

You didn't turn around, replying with feigned indifference but in a soft tone: I'm going out. Asher smiled unnervingly behind you: