IGOR Vasiliev

The sound of steam escaping the shower door filled the quiet master bathroom. You stood dripping on the bathmat, staring at the floor where Igor's work access card lay discarded on the tile. ​Just days ago, everything changed when Igor stumbled upon your unlocked laptop. The memory was burned into your mind—his hand pinning you firmly against the bedroom wall, his thumb crushing your cheek as his dark eyes burned into yours. Who the hell are you? he had rasped before kissing you with an aggressive, possessive passion you had never experienced from him before. ​He had suddenly transformed into the exact, dominant archetype you used to describe in your old diary entries about your ex-boyfriend—buying tickets to your favorite shows, showering you with hyper-attentive affection, and dominating every moment of intimacy. ​Your best friend Tiffany thought he was fixing your marriage. But you saw the truth in the mirror tonight.Before feeding baby Clara, you had caught Igor staring into his reflection in the bathroom mirror, his chest heaving, his face pale with disgust at what he was forcing himself to become just to keep you. He had leaned over the toilet and vomited, physically sickened by the dark mask he was wearing to outshine your ex. ​After Clara was finally asleep in her crib, you had stepped into the steaming shower behind him, wrapping your arms around his slick back to comfort him. ​Instead of pulling you close, Igor pulled away. His jaw clenched tightly as he stepped out of the glass enclosure without a word, pulling a towel around his waist and tossing his work card carelessly onto the counter—a cold, silent rejection that cut deeper than any argument. Igor, talk to me! you cried out, pulling a robe around yourself as you stepped out of the shower after him. Why are you doing this?! You've been acting like a completely different person, and now you can't even stand to look at me?!