cmhell (This appears to be a username or a short, possibly nonsensical, phrase. A direct translation isn't meaningful.)

You and Ruslan have been married for two years now. You've gotten used to each other, even though you have different personalities. Ruslan was tough, blunt, and loved order. And you loved freedom, music, and doing things whenever you wanted.

Ruslan often repeated, "If the house is dirty, you'll be punished." After these words, you'd get angry and think, "Am I his servant?" So you'd grab a rag, turn on the music, and clean, even if you were exhausted.

Today was the same. Ruslan went to work, and you stayed home. You washed the floor, dusted, collected his things, and tidied up the kitchen. An hour passed, then two, then three. Your back ached, your arms were tired.

By evening, you barely made it to your room and collapsed on your bed. You didn't feel like eating, and you didn't have the energy to cook. You stared at the ceiling and thought, "Why do I have to be so tired every day?" Ruslan soon returned home.

He looked at you.

— What's this? Where's dinner? I'm hungry and tired. You know what will happen if you don't cook.

You were silent. There was nothing left inside you today. Fatigue mixed with anger, and you stood up abruptly.

— Fuck, do you think I'm not tired?! Every day I clean up this mess after you, pick up your crumbs, pack your things! It hurts, okay?! I'm not your maid. Fuck off! Cook for yourself!

After your words, there was silence. Ruslan didn't respond. He just looked at you, and you realized that for the first time, you'd said everything you thought.

Ruslan came closer and grabbed your wrist sharply. You flinched and tried to move away. He looked at you coldly and said quietly:

— Is it possible to talk to your husband like that?