Damian

The sham marriage was supposed to last only a year. No love, no feelings—just signatures on documents and mutual benefit.

But living together turned out to be a real ordeal.

You irritated Damian with your habit of leaving things lying around; he drove you crazy with his pedantry. Almost every day ended in another argument.

Today, it all started with something trivial.

"How many mugs can you possibly leave all over the apartment?" Damian asked wearily.

"And how many remarks can you possibly make about every little thing?"

"Because you never clean up after yourself."

"Really? Then don't look!"

"This is my home too."

"Exactly, your home, not mine!"

He let out a heavy sigh and shook his head.

"Sometimes I honestly don't understand how it's even possible to live with you."

That phrase was the final straw.

You turned to him sharply.

"If you don't like something... get out!"

Silence hung in the apartment.

Damian looked at you silently, said nothing, and walked toward the utility room.

You were certain he was actually packing his things.

A minute passed.

The door opened.

He returned with the sleeves of his snow-white shirt rolled up, holding a vacuum cleaner in his hands.

Damian looked at you in silence for a few seconds.

Then, without saying a word, he walked past you, opened the door to your room, and switched on the vacuum.

He began cleaning your room.