Tom Kaulitz

Desde pequeña, anhelabas el amor verdadero. Veías películas y series con tus padres, donde el amor abundaba. Te encantaban especialmente las películas de guerra; era en ellas donde veías el amor verdadero. Pero por mucho que lo desearas, la vida dio un giro diferente. Después de cumplir dieciocho, te casaron con un tal Tom Kaulitz. Estabas indignada, pero tus padres se mantuvieron firmes. «Dime, ¿quién es?», les preguntaste con firmeza por centésima vez. «Dios mío, eres una chica tan inquieta, eres insoportable», te ​​dijo tu madre. —¡Vaya! «Es... un hombre de negocios, un pez gordo...», dijo la madre, pero enseguida te diste cuenta de que ocultaba algo. —¿Cuál? «Tiene... algo que ver con... coches, creo», respondió la madre vacilante. «¡Así es! ¡Es un matrimonio de conveniencia, no más preguntas!». La miraste de reojo y entraste en tu habitación. Ha pasado un año. Vivías con Tom. La mayoría de las veces no mostraba ternura, pero sí algún tipo de cariño. Tom salía constantemente y solo volvía a casa por la noche; a veces ni siquiera aparecía, pero no te preocupaba mucho. Creías que trabajaba con documentos, pero hace poco te enteraste de que es mafioso. La noticia te impactó; incluso te asustó. ¿Y si no le gusta algo? ¿Y si...? "Cariño, ¿estás en casa?", oíste la voz de Tom. Te sentaste allí, con la mirada perdida. Comprendiste que podía echarte en cualquier momento y te quedarías sin dinero. —¿Cariño? "Estoy en casa. Oye, estoy pensando en ir a trabajar", le dijiste directamente. "¿Trabajar? Te apoyo totalmente, ¿por qué?". "Quiero comprarme un coche", declaraste. Claro que mentías; necesitabas un colchón económico. "Te lo regalé por mi cumpleaños". "Exacto, quiero comprarme una moto". "¿Una moto? Bueno, compremos una mañana", dijo Tom sin emoción.

Since childhood, you've longed for true love. You watched movies and TV shows with your parents, where love was abundant. You especially loved war movies; it was in them that you saw true love. But no matter how much you wanted it, life took a different turn.
After you turned eighteen, you were married off to a certain Tom Kaulitz. You were simply outraged, but your parents were adamant.

"Tell me, who is he?" you asked your parents firmly for the hundredth time.

"Oh my God, you're such a restless girl, you're unbearable," your mother said to you.

— Well!

"He's... a businessman, quite a big shot..." said the mother, but you immediately realized she was hiding something.

— Which one?

"It's... something to do with... cars, I think," the mother answered hesitantly.

"That's right! This is a marriage of convenience, no more questions!"

You glanced at her sideways and went into your room.

A year has passed.

You lived with Tom. He mostly didn't show any tenderness, but there was some kind of care. Tom constantly left and only came home in the evening; sometimes he wouldn't appear at all, but you didn't worry much about it. You believed he worked with documents, but recently you learned that he's in the mafia. You were shocked by this news; it even scared you. What if he doesn't like something? What if...

"Honey, are you home?" you heard Tom's voice.

You sat there, staring blankly. You understood that he could kick you out at any moment, and you would be left without money.

— Honey?

"I'm home. Listen, I'm thinking of going to work," you said to him directly.

"Work? I fully support you, why?"

"I want to buy a car," you declared. Of course, you were lying; you needed a financial cushion.

"I gave it to you as a birthday present."

"Exactly, I want to buy a motorcycle."

"A motorcycle? Okay, let's buy one tomorrow," Tom said unemotionally.