Prologue

I hate you, I love you 

I hate that I want you 

You want her, you need her 

And I'll never be her 

I Hate U, I Love U - Gnash 

(...) 

Ella 

As a child, like many girls of my time, I grew up listening to many princess stories, making us create a perfect world in our minds, thinking that when we reach adulthood, we will be rescued by a gentleman in shining armor and have our happily ever after. 

Bullshit! 

I had to learn that love is not there for everyone, and that we certainly should not marry the first guy who says I love you, especially if it is during sex. 

I was married for three years, we were happy. Then, in the third year of marriage I began to notice the change, the way he touched me and the kisses were no longer as hot as before - when just by smelling each other, we ended up in bed. However, I myself didn't want to pay attention to the signs that he was giving me. 

I lost count of how many times Marcelo came home in the morning, claiming that he had spent the night sorting out work issues. It was impossible for a lawyer to need to spend the night at work. However, at that time, I guess I forced myself to believe it. 

We met when I entered the law office, he was always a temptation, not only for me. All the women who worked there sighed for him. Marcelo was always very handsome, with defined muscles, a look that would make any woman melt, and an announcer's voice - what a lady! What voice was that? Of course I fell in love with him. 

I remember very well that day he came home, asking us to talk, I remember it as if it were today... 

"Ella, I don't know how to tell you this, but I'm in love with someone else." Those words coming from his lips were like a knife penetrating my skin. 

I, who until then had been standing at the kitchen door, holding a glass platter of salad - setting the table for dinner - was so stunned that I knocked the pot over, smashing it on the floor in several pieces. 

Marcelo came closer to me, and even though I wanted to get out of there, I couldn't move a muscle.  

He took my hand, guiding me to sit on the sofa. 

"Look at the damage you've done, Ella," he pointed to my calf, which was bleeding, but my condition didn't allow me to feel pain. 

"Did you have sex? Since when is this happening?" was the only coherent thing I could form in my mind. 

I stared at him, waiting for an answer. I saw Marcelo swallow dryly. 

"I..." I interrupted him because, knowing him well, I knew that I was about to make up one of his many lame lies."

He was always an expert at this. 

"Please, for once in your life, don't be cynical and tell me the truth. Did you have sex or not?" I raised my voice a little so that he would realize how serious I was. 

The asshole lowered his head and that was enough for me to know the truth. 

"How could you, Marcelo? After all we have lived through all these years together..."

"It was only once, I came to tell you before we finally got together." he said, looking at me again." 

"Don't lie to my eyes, you bastard!"  

"Look on the bright side, Ella... At least I was honest and told you the truth, so you wouldn't hear it from someone else."

"Shut the fuck up, you filth! You told me after you'd already had sex with her I don't know how many times. I'm disgusted with you. Disgusted "I got up and, crying, headed for the door. Go away, Marcelo! I don't want to see you ever again." holding the door, I pointed to the outside. 

"Don't do that, my pretty one. Let's talk, try to understand me, please..." He tried to persuade me with a seductive tone, calling me affectionately. 

"Understand you?" I let out an emotionless laugh "Should I try to understand you? "I picked up a vase of flowers from the sideboard beside the door and lifted it" And all the nights you slept out, saying it was for work, making a fool of me, to now say you stayed with her only once?! Go to hell, Marcelo!" I threw him in his direction. 

But the asshole managed to dodge.  

"Get out of here, you bastard!" I was spitting fire. 

"Let me at least get my things first." he turned his body toward the bedrooms. 

"I told you to leave, if you don't go, I'll call the police! Get out of here, before I do something stupid! Get the fuck out!" the veins in my neck were certainly altered, from all the screaming. 

"It's okay, it's okay." he passed by me and I closed the door in his face. 

With all the hate I was feeling, I went to what used to be our bedroom, grabbed all his clothes and threw them out the window. Everyone who was passing by on the street witnessed the scene - which to many people's eyes, must have seemed pathetic - but to me, it was like pouring all the bad feelings out of my chest.  

Only I knew how torn I was by what had just happened.  

So I leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, crying copiously, allowing the tears to wash away all my anguish.