love her... I do. But fear consumes me, gnawing at my very core. I'm afraid of a life without her, terrified of losing the one who completes me.
Growing up, my father's words echoed in my mind: "Ladies love a man with a deep pocket." Those words became ingrained in me, shaping my perspective on life.

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Growing up, my father's words echoed in my mind: "Ladies love a man with a deep pocket." Those words became ingrained in me, shaping my perspective on life.

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When I inherited my father's business, I felt invincible. And then I met her—the embodiment of beauty, radiating light wherever she went. She ignited a fire within me, a feeling I had never experienced before. I knew deep in my soul that she was the one I had been waiting for.

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The opportunity arose for me to meet her father, who promised to arrange a date between us. It was the beginning of a love story that seemed destined to unfold into something beautiful.

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But as time went on, my obsession with a lavish lifestyle took hold. I became consumed with the idea of showering her with the latest and greatest. To sustain this opulent existence, I made the fateful decision to sell off my father's stores, one by one, until nothing remained. Determined to start afresh, we moved to San Myshyno, investing in a coffee shop and aspiring to lead a simpler, more ordinary life.

Sadly, our dreams crumbled as the coffee shop struggled to thrive. Financial hardships loomed over us, draining our resources. The weight of my fear intensified—fear of losing her, fear of our love crumbling under the strain of financial ruin. In my desperation, a twisted idea took root within me. If I could make her afraid of leaving, then she couldn't abandon me. It was a decision that would be judged by many as despicable, a betrayal of trust.
The path I chose was stained with regret and moral compromise, driven by a fear that had morphed into something monstrous. The details of my actions, those considered by most to be reprehensible, shall remain buried in the depths of my conscience. The choices I made were desperate attempts to hold onto what I cherished most, but at what cost?
Love and fear intertwined, shaping my journey down a treacherous path. As I reflect upon the choices I made, the price I paid for my actions, I am left with a with a lingering question: Can love and fear ever truly coexist without one devouring the other?