During the divorce, the husband declared, «Return everything I ever gave you and the kids!» A week laterthere were boxes onhis doorstep. When he opened them he was astounded…

Leon and Annabelle had a huge fight. Apparently he slapped her. Hard.

She called the police and they took him in for the night. It’s all over the neighbourhood now. Valerie’s breath caught.

Leon had never raised a hand to her, not once, even in their darkest moments. The news unsettled her, not because she cared for him anymore, but because it revealed how far he’d fallen. What happened? She asked, her voice steady.

Kate sighed. From what I heard, it was about money. Annabelle’s been spending like crazy and Leon’s stressed about the baby and work.

They were screaming at each other and he just… lost it. Annabelle’s pressing charges, or at least threatening to. It’s a disaster.

Valerie set down the shirt she’d been folding, her hands resting on the pile of laundry. She thought of the baby, barely a toddler, witnessing his parents unravelling. I feel sorry for that poor boy, she said quietly.

He doesn’t deserve this. No kid does. Kate’s voice softened.

You’re too kind, Val. After everything they put you through, you’re still thinking about that child. Valerie managed a small smile, though Kate couldn’t see it.

It’s not about them, Kate. It’s about that baby. He’s got no one looking out for him.

The illusion of Leon and Annabelle’s passionate romance began to crack not long after the boxes from Valerie arrived, their contents a fleeting triumph that couldn’t sustain the fragile foundation of their relationship. Once the thrill of conquest, Leon claiming Valerie’s possessions, Annabelle revelling in her spoils, faded, the reality of their life together set in. What had seemed like love, fiery and all-consuming, cooled into something far less glamorous.

Leon, who had once seen Annabelle as his liberator, began to see her for what she was, a manipulator who’d played him as deftly as a chess grandmaster. He’d fallen for her trap, lured by her charm and confidence, only to find himself ensnared in a dynamic that drained him dry. Annabelle’s demands were relentless.

The financial ones were the least of it. Leon could handle her endless shopping sprees, the designer clothes piling up in their apartment, the extravagant dinners she insisted on. He’d grit his teeth and pay the bills, even as his bank account dwindled and his stress mounted.

But her emotional demands were a labyrinth he couldn’t navigate. She craved constant validation, her mood swinging like a pendulum, one moment showering him with affection, the next berating him for some perceived slight. You don’t appreciate me, Leon? She’d snap, her voice sharp as she waved a glass of wine, her eyes glittering with accusation.

After everything I’ve done for you, you’re still not enough. In the beginning, her unconventional preferences in bed had ignited a spark in Leon, a stark contrast to the predictable rhythm of his marriage to Valerie. But what once thrilled him turned dark, her desires pushing boundaries that left him uncomfortable even repulsed.

He complied at first, desperate to keep her satisfied, but the encounters grew hollow, leaving him feeling used rather than desired. Night after night, he’d retreat to the garage, the cold concrete floor his refuge. There, hidden among the clutter of unopened boxes from Valerie, he’d nurse a bottle of whiskey, the burn of alcohol a temporary escape from the chaos of his thoughts.

Annabelle’s control tightened like a noose, she monitored his every move, her accusations sharp and unrelenting. You’re drinking too much, Leon, she’d hiss, catching the faint whiff of liquor on his breath, her eyes narrowing with disdain. You’re pathetic.

Yet she’d pour herself another martini, her hypocrisy glaring. Leon, once the confident man who’d strutted out of the courtroom with a smirk, felt like a puppy on a leash, yanked this way and that by her whims. He’d catch himself nodding to her demands, agreeing to her rants just to avoid another screaming match.

The apartment, once a symbol of his new life, felt like a cage. Things spiralled further, the fights growing uglier. The night he slapped her, his hand striking her cheek in a moment of blind frustration, was a low he’d never imagined sinking to.

The police, the night in a cell, the neighbours’ whispers. It was a wake-up call, but not the first. In the quiet of those garage nights, as the whiskey dulled his senses, a thought had begun to creep in, insidious and persistent.

He’d been wrong. At the start of his affair with Annabelle, he’d convinced himself he’d found true love, that Valerie had been the anchor holding him back from happiness. Annabelle’s vibrancy, her boldness, had seemed like everything he’d been missing.

But now, staring at the wreckage of his life, he wondered if he’d been too quick, too reckless, to make those bold moves. The garage was Leon’s sanctuary, a dim, cluttered refuge where he could escape Annabelle’s relentless demands. One evening, after another barbed argument over her latest shopping spree, he slipped inside, his hands trembling with the need for his hidden bottle of vodka.

He rummaged through the shelves, shoving aside paint cans and forgotten gym equipment, his frustration mounting as the bottle eluded him. His fingers grazed the edge of an unopened box, one of the ones Valerie had sent, tearing off the lid with a reckless tug. He froze…