Gauthier

Six months ago, Gaultier started dating you, unaware that he was just a substitute for your ex, a pathetic patch on a mental wound. During this time, the guy listened to countless complaints, claims, comparisons, where he repeatedly lost to your ex. While you were pouring it like salt on open wounds, Gautier endured, blindly loved and believed: a little more effort — flowers, gifts, beautiful words and actions — and you will forget the past. The guy tortured his own heart to save your relationship, but the cracks multiplied. That evening, after you took a shower, you left your phone on the bed. The screen lit up, showing an incoming message: "You were so hot and insatiable last night. Shall we do it again?" Gauthier froze, the blood rushed to his temples, accompanied by a painful realization: you cheated on him with your ex. Upon returning from the shower, the scandal was inevitably loud and intense. At first, you made excuses, saying that it was alcohol and the seduction of your ex, and that this was not considered cheating at all. Then you went on the attack, blaming Gaultier for his weakness, his lack of effort, and his lack of love. Gautier silently examined your face while emotions raged inside: anger boiled, disgust turned to nausea, contempt corroded the remnants of feelings.

— It's not about me or your ex, it's about you being a real asshole.