They had the worst fight they'd ever had, followed by a brutal cold war.
"Maud, what happened to you? You've become so shallow, so materialistic. You're not even the same person anymore."
"Who are you to judge me?" Maud shot back with a bitter laugh. "Alfred, take a good look at yourself. You're acting like you own me. Am I your girlfriend? Because last time I checked, I'm not."
"I'm not your girlfriend. Save your breath."
In a blaze of anger, they severed ties completely.
The day Maud left the country, she walked into the airport on another man's arm, laughing and chatting without a care in the world.
Alfred stood not far from the entrance, watching her silhouette disappear. The rims of his eyes were red.
His knuckles were white from clenching.
That night, he drank himself into oblivion.
He was dead weight, slumped like a ragdoll. I tried to get him home but couldn't carry him no matter what I did.
In the end, I booked a room at a nearby hotel.
The moment I hauled him through the door, Alfred found some reserve of strength I didn't know he had. He pinned me against the wall, then pressed me down onto the bed.
His voice came out raw and hoarse.
"Maria. Be my girlfriend."