The Slap That Changed Everything
I never thought I’d raise my hand to her. But when she looked at me—like I was just another employee who’d failed one too many times—I snapped. The slap echoed through the penthouse like a gunshot. And then I walked out, leaving behind the only woman I’ve ever loved. Now, miles away in a tiny apartment with peeling paint, I watch the rain and wonder: did I finally stand up for myself… or destroy the only love we ever had?My hand stung more than I expected.
Helen stood frozen, one perfect eyebrow twitching, her wineglass halfway to lips that had kissed me exactly three times this year. The penthouse was silent except for the hum of the Sub-Zero fridge I’d cleaned that morning. I hadn’t meant to do it. Not really. But when she said, 'You’re useless even at this,' because I forgot to iron her silk blouse—after six years of meals, laundry, midnight calls when she worked late—it just… happened.
She didn’t cry. Didn’t yell. Just stared.
And that silence hurt worse than any slap could.
I grabbed my duffel, the one I used for weekend trips I never took, and started throwing things inside—socks, toothbrush, the dog-eared novel she once called 'a waste of time.' My hands shook, but my steps didn’t falter until I reached the elevator.
That’s when I heard it—the microwave beeping. Our dinner. The lasagna I’d made from scratch, the one she used to love.
It sat there, steaming, ignored.
I pressed the down button. The doors began to close.
Should I go back and turn it off? Or let it burn?
mailwasteBtY2
works: 7
The Villainess's Obsession
I never asked to be strong. I only wanted to hide, to fade into the shadows where no one would see me. But she found me—her gaze like fire, her voice a command wrapped in silk. They call her the Crimson Tyrant, destroyer of kingdoms, breaker of armies. And now, she whispers my name like a prayer. She says I’m the only one who makes her feel anything. That I’m the only one she *needs*. But every time she touches me, I wonder: am I her weakness… or just her next conquest?
Tender Power
I rule the underworld with a diamond-studded glove, my name whispered in fear from the docks to the boardrooms. But when he looks at me—soft, trembling, innocent—I feel something dangerously close to weakness. He doesn’t know the effect he has. Every brush of his fingers unravels me. I crave him like a drug, but he flinches at touch. So I wait. So I plan. How long can I hold back before I take what I want?
Cold Hands Warm Heart
I run a billion-dollar empire with an iron voice and a frozen stare. To the world, I’m untouchable. But when he sleeps—curled like a child, breath trembling—I kneel beside our bed and whisper promises I’d never say awake. He thinks I don’t care. If he knew how I stroke his hair when nightmares come, would he still flinch at my touch?
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.