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by Mama1Inko1

by Mama1Inko1

omg

---Third-person POV:

Throughout their two-year relationship, Netio and Izuku had crafted what seemed like a perfect life to those on the outside. Their home, tucked away in a quiet corner of the bustling city, was designed to be a refuge—a place where their love could flourish and grow. It was the kind of home where laughter echoed through the halls, and peace settled in the spaces between them. But over time, cracks began to form beneath the surface.

Netio's actions began to chip away at the foundation of trust they had built. It started subtly at first—late nights, unexplained absences. And then, it became bolder, brazen. He began bringing women into their shared home, as though Izuku's feelings were invisible, irrelevant. These women, each strikingly different in appearance but always strangers to Izuku, would arrive with knowing smiles and welcomed in without hesitation. They entered the house as though it were theirs, disrupting the fragile balance of what had once been their sanctuary.

Each time, the weight of these intrusions grew heavier, suffocating Izuku. He could feel the tension thickening between them, like an unspoken storm gathering in the air, ready to unleash its fury. Every visit chipped away at Izuku's heart, sinking deeper into his chest, making it harder to breathe. Netio, however, remained unaffected, always flashing that same indifferent smile.---Until...---For months now, Izuku's body had been betraying him, a constant nausea gnawing away at his insides. It began as something subtle, an occasional discomfort, but it soon grew into an unrelenting wave of sickness that would come at any hour. His energy drained, and his once-radiant face grew paler with each passing day. Izuku had begged Netio to take him to the hospital, his voice filled with quiet desperation, hoping for even a flicker of concern.But each time, the response was painfully familiar.

Netio, lounging on their sleek leather couch, would raise the wine bottle to his lips and take a slow sip, never acknowledging the urgency in Izuku's voice. One of his mistresses, draped across his lap like an accessory, would be either tracing her fingers over the defined ridges of his abs or drinking from her glass, her laughter filling the room with unsettling ease.

"Stop reacting," Netio would say, his voice heavy with impatience, his gaze never once meeting Izuku's. He rolled his eyes, dismissing the greenette's concern as if it were a mere inconvenience in his otherwise indulgent life. "You're just eating too much."

That line—those cold, detached words—would always be followed by his signature chuckle. It was a laugh that echoed with mockery, as though Izuku's suffering was a source of mild amusement rather than genuine concern. Each chuckle dug deeper into Izuku's soul, twisting the knife of betrayal just a little further.

And then, without fail, the final command would come. "Grab more wine," Netio would say, waving his hand dismissively, his attention already back on the woman clinging to him. The words stung, not just because of their coldness, but because they were a constant reminder that Izuku's pain meant nothing to him. He wasn't a partner in Netio's eyes—he was a servant, expected to comply without question.

As Izuku stood there, the nausea returned with a vengeance, but this time, it wasn't just his body rebelling. It was his heart—his very spirit—worn down by the weight of neglect and the cruel, casual dismissal of the person he had once trusted most.---

567 words!

what do you'll think is wrong with Zuzu