First, he asked me to slightly increase my lips. Then—grow and dye my hair. After that—make my breasts, and next—remove a couple of ribs.
I agreed to almost everything my husband wanted until one day I realized: he doesn’t see me—he’s trying to sculpt an “improved version” of his ex, for whom he still can’t stop longing.
— I know you haven’t forgotten Anzhela, Egor.
I look into the shameless eyes of a man who betrayed me, because the day before I’d read his messages to her.
— Not only haven’t I forgotten. We’re together again—he admits, without a hint of embarrassment.
My breath catches, and I ask:
— Then why do you need me?
He shrugs indifferently:
— You already understand what you’re for, Tanyа. I’m good with you in bed.
Our marriage turned out to be a lie. But what’s more frightening is this: trying to live up to his desires, it seems I’ve lost myself—and I no longer know where the real me is.