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Angel
The morning sun flooded the office, painting the mahogany furniture with golden hues. I stood motionless in front of Dimitri's desk, my trembling fingers resting on the divorce papers. Each printed line felt like a death sentence to what once was our love.
"Dimitri..." My voice came out in a whisper, laden with a mix of supplication and despair. His eyes, usually so warm, now seemed icy, as if a wall of ice had covered them.
"Sign them, Angel," his voice was firm, authoritative, as if there was no room for discussion. As if our entire history, our life together, could be summed up in a simple order.
Why? The question echoed in my mind, but I dared not voice it. Fear? Perhaps. Or maybe it was the fragile hope that if I didn't speak, all of this would be just a passing nightmare.
"What did I do wrong?" The words barely escaped my lips before I could contain them. A torrent of emotions flooded me, making my heart ache painfully in my chest.
His eyes, unyielding, met mine, but there was no compassion in them. Only a relentless coldness, as if my suffering were irrelevant in the face of his will.
It doesn't matter anymore. The answer hit me like a blow, leaving me breathless. I didn't matter anymore. Everything we were, everything we built together, dissipated like smoke in the wind.
With trembling hands, I reached for the pen, each movement an herculean effort. Every stroke I made was like a death sentence to our story, a silent farewell to what once was our future.
When the last signature was placed, a heavy silence descended upon us, filling the space between us with a sense of desolation and hopelessness. I felt empty, as if a part of me had been ripped away, leaving only a black hole in its place.
My mind seemed to spin in a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts as I stared into the void before me. Each breath felt like a weight on my shoulders, each heartbeat echoing like a desperate cry within me.
And then, just as everything seemed to have come to an end, a single question arose in my tormented mind: "And now? What do I do now?"
But before I could even attempt to find an answer to this agonizing question, a familiar voice interrupted the sepulchral silence that had settled around us.
"Angel... How much do you want to sign this damn paper?"
I turned slowly to face Dimitri, my eyes meeting his in search of any sign of understanding, of mercy, but all I found was an unwavering coldness, as if he himself had become an extension of the cruel determination that forced me to sign those papers.
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