It was raining the night everything finally came undone.
Ethan sat alone in the apartment, the lights off, the sound of water dripping through a leak in the ceiling echoing like a countdown. Aria hadn't come home for two days. He didn't bother calling anymore. He already knew she wouldn't answer.
The wedding photo on the wall caught his eye. They looked happy there—her smile dazzling, his eyes full of hope. A lie frozen in a frame.
He hurled it to the floor. Glass shattered across the tiles.
When the door finally swung open, Aria stumbled in, soaked, laughing breathlessly with another man at her side.
Ethan rose slowly, his face pale, his hands trembling.
"Get out," he said to the stranger.
The man raised an eyebrow but smirked, slipping back into the storm outside without a word.
Aria tossed her wet jacket on the couch, unfazed. "What's your problem now?"
"My problem?" Ethan's voice cracked into a laugh that wasn't really a laugh. "You're my wife. And you keep dragging strangers into our home like—like none of this means anything."
Aria rolled her eyes, pulling a cigarette from her purse. "That's because it doesn't."
The words struck him harder than any slap could.
Something inside Ethan snapped—not with rage this time, but with clarity.
He walked to the kitchen slowly, calmly, pulling open the drawer where they kept the lighter for candles. He lit it, the flame small but fierce in the darkness.
Aria frowned. "What are you doing?"
"Ending it," Ethan whispered.
He touched the flame to the pile of unpaid bills stacked on the counter. The paper caught instantly, fire blooming like something alive.
Aria's eyes widened. "Ethan! Are you insane?"
"Yes," he said, his voice calm, steady for the first time in months. "Insane for you. Insane because of you."
The fire spread quickly, licking across the counter, devouring everything in its path. Smoke filled the room.
Aria screamed, grabbing his arm. "Put it out! What are you doing?!"
Ethan turned to her, tears streaming down his face. "I can't put us out, Aria. I tried. I've been burning since the day I met you."
The flames roared louder, drowning out her curses, her pleas.
When the firefighters arrived, the building was already engulfed.
They found Ethan outside, sitting in the rain, his clothes singed, his eyes vacant.
"Was anyone else inside?" one asked, but Ethan didn't answer.
He just stared into the flames as the apartment collapsed, swallowed whole.
Aria was gone—whether she'd escaped or not, he didn't know. Or maybe he didn't want to know.
All he knew was that the fire had taken her from him, the way his love never could.
And in the twisted silence of his heart, it felt like peace.
Epilogue
Months later, Ethan lived in a small rented room, walls bare, life stripped down to nothing. He no longer wrote, no longer dreamed.
But sometimes, when the rain fell against the window at night, he swore he could hear her laugh.
And though she was gone, the addiction remained—burning quietly in his chest.
A bad, beautiful addiction.
One he knew he'd never escape.