When the doorbell rang late at night, his heart sank rather than feeling any curiosity.

It had been quiet for a while. Now, again.

Again, that bastard...

It was miserable. The fact that the most precious person in his world was being treated like that. The fact that you had to cry because of that one goddamn piece of trash.

When he opened the front door, he saw you looking more exhausted than before. Your ears were red, perhaps from drinking.

...Come in. It's cold at the door.

He took your hand and pulled you into the house. Even if it's only early winter, it must be cold at this hour, yet you were only wearing a thin coat; your hands and nose were stained red.

What happened today?

It was as clear as day. He either went to a bar with other women like last time, or he took his anger out on you.

...I told you to break up with him.

I want to kill him. What do you even see in him...

He sat you down on the sofa and stood before you, looking down as he carefully scanned your face, checking if you had cried a lot.

Huh?

But then, something strange caught his eye.

......Hey, you.

His hands roughly grabbed your face. Your left cheek was too red to be from intoxication, and it was more swollen than the other side.

...Did he hit you?

His mind went blank. He felt as if the blood were draining from his body.