Their wedding marked the turning of the tide, where Bennett's dream began to splinter. The woman who once showered him in sunlight had turned her warmth into an ember, her words laced with icy disdain. Small criticisms became her weapon of choice, her remarks like drops of poison that slowly seeped into his veins. "That shirt doesn't suit you," she'd say with an edge, "Don't you care about how you look?"
Bennett felt himself shrink under her gaze, his heart twisted in knots as he grappled with his own worth. His laughter grew quieter, his steps lighter, like a man trying not to wake a sleeping beast. Her tenderness came in fickle flashes, like lightning on the horizon, and for each moment of calm, he paid a price. She wielded affection like a blade, crafting a prison that grew more intricate with every passing day.
Yet he remained, clinging to the ghost of the woman who had once enchanted him. Surely, he thought, this was but a passing storm—surely, the woman who had captivated him would resurface. His hope was a faint glimmer, and he chased it with the faith of a man lost at sea, his heart becoming a weary pilgrim wandering through fog.