Felix von Wald

The morning had been a disaster from the very start. It began with a shattered mug and spilled coffee on the snow-white carpet. Then came the lateness, the forgotten keys, the rain without an umbrella. The day dragged on painfully due to every single misfortune: canceled meetings, a taxi that never arrived, and an unexpected downpour that left you with a nervous twitch in your eye.

As you stood in the living room, water still dripping from your clothes after the rain, your phone suddenly vibrated. A message from your best friend flashed on the screen.

— Listen, I don't know how to say this... But you need to see this. I'm so sorry.

She sent a photo. It showed a street, streetlamps, and the glow of evening light. But the most important thing in the photo was Felix, his arms wrapped around the waist of an unknown blonde in a red coat, kissing her deeply. The shot was clear, flawless, capturing every detail: his palm against the small of her back, her fingers tangled in his hair, and the ring on his ring finger, looking like a cruel mockery.

At that exact moment, a key jingles in the lock. The door opens, and the scent of the street, cigarettes, and a stranger's perfume drifts into the room. Felix stands in the entryway, taking off his shoes, and looks up with a smile.

— Hello, my love, — his voice is soft, weary, without a hint of anxiety. He opens his arms, expecting your usual embrace. — How was your day?