Alina's consciousness flickered like a weak flame, pulling her from the depths of darkness. A dull ache coursed through her body, and the first sensation that struck her was pain—deep, throbbing pain that stretched across her ribs, her face, and her limbs. Her eyelids felt heavy, resisting her efforts to open them.
The room smelled sterile—antiseptic and bleach. Even before her eyes fully adjusted, she knew where she was. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor beside her bed only confirmed it: she was in a hospital.
With a shaky breath, Alina finally opened her eyes, blinking against the harsh, fluorescent lights overhead. The sterile white ceiling above her blurred, but her body remembered. Bruises screamed at her with every slight movement, and the dryness in her throat made her want to cry out, but she couldn't. Not yet.
Memories trickled back in fragments. Her thoughts were slow, clouded by the painkillers. But it was enough to piece together how she had ended up here. Enough to remember Leon.
Leon.
His name alone sent a fresh wave of dread crashing through her. She remembered the look on his face, the anger in his eyes, the way his hands had clenched into fists. Alina's heart pounded at the memory of their last confrontation—the eruption of fury she hadn't been prepared for. Her fingers trembled slightly as they gripped the thin hospital blanket.
This wasn't supposed to happen. How had they come to this?
She had never meant for things to get so out of control. It started with the lies, the small cracks in their once-perfect relationship. The cheating wasn't premeditated—it wasn't about Leon at all, at least not at first. It had been about escaping her own misery, escaping the suffocating feeling of his possessiveness. His jealousy, his constant need to know where she was, who she was with—it had become too much. Leon hadn't always been that way, but over time, his protectiveness turned into control. And Alina, feeling trapped, had sought a way out.
She swallowed hard, wincing as her throat protested against the dryness. The guilt was still there, twisting inside her like a knife. She had cheated. Not just once. Multiple times. And each time, it had felt like a brief escape from the suffocation of her life with Leon. But the weight of her betrayal had only grown heavier with each affair, until she could hardly look Leon in the eye without feeling the sting of shame.
And then last night happened.
Alina's eyes fluttered closed as she allowed the memories of the previous night to flood her mind. Leon had found out. Somehow, he had pieced it all together. He had seen the texts, the photos—evidence of her infidelity. The confrontation had been immediate, brutal.
"You think I wouldn't find out?" Leon's voice had been sharp, cutting through the air like a whip. His face had been twisted in disbelief, fury burning behind his eyes. "How many, Alina? How long have you been lying to me?"
She had stood frozen, her breath catching in her throat, unable to find the right words. There was no excuse, no explanation that would make sense to him. She had tried to explain, to apologize, but nothing she said could douse the fire in his eyes.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this, Leon," she had whispered, her voice trembling. "I—I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't—"
"Didn't mean to hurt me?" His voice had risen, loud and venomous. "You didn't mean to fuck other men behind my back?"
His words had been a slap to the face, harsher than any physical blow. Alina had flinched, tears already brimming in her eyes, but she couldn't deny it. He was right. She had betrayed him in the worst way possible. But what he didn't understand—what she couldn't make him understand—was that it had never been about hurting him. It had been about trying to escape her own misery, her own sense of being suffocated.
Leon had stepped closer then, his fists clenched at his sides, his entire body shaking with rage. "I gave you everything, Alina. I loved you. I trusted you. And this is what you do to me?"
Alina's heart had raced, panic rising in her throat as she took a step back, trying to put distance between them. But Leon had followed her, his eyes blazing with fury. She had never seen him like that before—so out of control, so utterly consumed by anger.
"Leon, please, just—just let me explain," she had begged, her voice cracking. "I didn't mean for it to get this far. I didn't mean for any of this to happen."
But her words had fallen on deaf ears. Leon's rage had only intensified, his breathing becoming heavier, more erratic. He had grabbed her then, his hands rough and unforgiving as they latched onto her arms. Alina had cried out in pain, but Leon's grip only tightened.
"How many, Alina? How many men?" he had shouted, shaking her as though the answer would somehow make everything better.
Tears had streamed down Alina's face as she had struggled to break free from his grip. "I don't know!" she had cried. "I don't know, Leon. I—I didn't keep count."
The moment the words left her mouth, she had seen something snap in Leon's eyes. His expression had darkened, the hurt twisting into something even more dangerous. And then, in one swift movement, his hand had lashed out, striking her across the face with such force that she had stumbled backward, crashing into the wall behind her.
The pain had been immediate, sharp and blinding. But it hadn't ended there. Leon had followed her, his fists raining down on her like a storm of fury. Each blow had felt like a punishment, a reminder of her betrayal. Alina had screamed for him to stop, begged him to leave her alone, but the words had been lost in the chaos of his anger.
She had blacked out after that, the pain too much for her body to handle. The next thing she knew, she was waking up here, in the hospital, battered and broken.
Now, as she lay in the hospital bed, her body aching with the memory of each strike, Alina's mind raced with conflicting emotions. The guilt of her infidelity gnawed at her, but so did the fear of what Leon had become. He wasn't the man she had fallen in love with. He hadn't been for a long time. But last night had shown her a side of him she hadn't thought possible—a side that terrified her.
Would he come back? Would he try to find her again? The thought sent a shiver down her spine.
Alina's fingers trembled as she reached up to touch her swollen cheek, the bruise still fresh and tender beneath her fingertips. She knew she had made mistakes—terrible mistakes—but did that mean she deserved this? Did her betrayal justify the violence?
The sound of the door opening pulled Alina from her thoughts, and her heart skipped a beat as she looked up. A nurse stepped into the room, her expression calm and professional, though her eyes softened slightly as they landed on Alina's battered form.
"Good to see you're awake," the nurse said softly, making her way to the machines beside the bed. She checked the IV drip and made a few notes on the clipboard in her hands. "How are you feeling?"
Alina swallowed hard, her throat dry. "I'm… okay," she lied, though the pain in her voice was unmistakable.
The nurse glanced at her, her gaze lingering on the bruises for a moment before she nodded. "You're lucky someone found you when they did," she said gently, though Alina wasn't sure if 'lucky' was the right word. "Is there anyone we should call? Family? A friend?"
Alina's heart clenched at the question. She had no family left, no close friends who hadn't been pushed away by her relationship with Leon. He had slowly isolated her from everyone who might have been able to help her. And now, in her most vulnerable moment, there was no one left to call.
"No," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "There's no one."
The nurse gave her a sympathetic smile but didn't press the issue. "Well, if you need anything, just press the call button," she said, gesturing to the small remote beside Alina's bed. "The doctor will be in to see you soon."
Alina nodded weakly, and the nurse left the room, the door clicking shut behind her.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Alone again, Alina let her thoughts drift back to Leon. She wondered where he was now—if he was still consumed by the anger that had driven him to hurt her, or if he regretted what
he had done. She wasn't sure which thought scared her more.
Alina's fingers gripped the blanket tightly, her knuckles turning white. She didn't know what would happen next, but one thing was certain: she couldn't go back. Not after what had happened. Not after the man she had loved had turned into a monster before her very eyes.
But even as the fear coursed through her, there was a small, nagging voice in the back of her mind—a voice that whispered the truth she didn't want to admit.
She wasn't innocent either. She had pushed him to this. She had lied, cheated, betrayed him. And now, they were both drowning in the aftermath of her mistakes.
Tears welled up in Alina's eyes as she stared up at the ceiling, her heart heavy with guilt and fear. She didn't know how to fix this—didn't know if it could be fixed. But deep down, she knew that whatever future awaited her, it would never be the same again.