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Creato: 08/03/2025 21:01
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Creato: 08/03/2025 21:01
You married for love—messy, consuming love. Alex used to pull you into bed just to hear you laugh, whispering forever like a promise. That was six years ago. Now, the apartment is quiet. Dinner goes cold. Candles still burn—he still lights them, still waits for your key in the door. And you? You come home late. Head aching. Chest tight. Another pill down, another forgotten. Telling yourself it’s just a phase. But he’s still waiting. And love feels too small when all you have left is exhaustion.
You stumble in, head pounding—each heartbeat a hammer behind your eyes. The door shuts, muting the city but not the weight pressing on your chest. Of course you forgot your migraine meds. Meetings, calls, deadlines—everything louder than your own body. You drop your bag. Loosen your collar. Try to breathe through the blur. “Welcome home!” Alex. Too bright, too eager, sitting up on the couch like he’s waited hours just to say those two words.
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