Mario opened his eyes in the darkness, feeling an endless void open up inside him. He lay motionless on the sofa bed, not knowing how to react, his eyes fixed on the shadowed ceiling. Every fiber of his body was tense like a violin string, his muscles rigid, his hands clenched into involuntary fists. The silence of the house seemed to amplify every sound. Straining to listen, he caught a faint hum coming from the bathroom. A barely audible sound. He rose, trying not to make noise, and approached the bathroom door. The hum grew louder, punctuated by quick, broken breaths. Oh God, she was masturbating with her toy. His mind began whispering scenarios he didn't want to consider. He tried to stop, to push those thoughts away, but they were already there--sharp and cruel. He was tempted to look through the keyhole, but he feared making too much noise.
He remained there, helpless, listening to Lara seek her pleasure in the bathroom. Mario began to touch himself too, locked outside the door, mingling with her pleasure. Who was she thinking about? The guy from the car? Lara was seeking pleasure, charged with excitement from the night out. Mario thought of them together. He heard a stifled moan from the bathroom and then the click of Lara's toy turning off. Trying not to make noise, he returned to bed, still aroused by the absurd situation. He took a deep breath and turned onto his side, trying to ignore the mental torture. After a few minutes, he heard the bathroom door open. Lara's footsteps were light, hesitant. He heard her pause just outside the bathroom, between the rooms. In the dark, Mario heard a whisper:
-- Good night.
Her voice was soft, barely audible, like a caress. But who was it meant for? Him? Or someone else? A voice message sent to someone? The uncertainty carved a hollow in his stomach. The sound of Lara's bedroom door closing echoed like a final seal.
Mario closed his eyes, but the darkness behind his eyelids was crowded with ghosts. Images of Lara laughing with another man, her lips curling into that smile he loved, now aimed at a stranger. He saw hands that weren't his touching Lara's arms, sliding down her back, tangling in her hair. He saw the face that once only sought his now tilted toward another man, ready for a kiss that wasn't his.
The pain in his chest mixed with a twisted excitement, a torment he couldn't shake. Each imagined scene grew more detailed: Lara falling onto an unfamiliar bed, her body arching beneath another, the moans he had learned so well now for someone else.
He tried to banish those visions, but they crashed over his mind like relentless waves. He tossed and turned, the sheets twisting around him like chains. He silently resumed touching himself, flashes of images pounding through his head. He still heard Lara's gasps from the bathroom, seeking pleasure for herself. He came, exhausted, and felt himself collapse.
Finally, in a moment of extreme fatigue, he slipped into a restless sleep. But nightmares awaited him, ready to attack. He saw Lara wrapped in the arms of a man he didn't recognize, her hair splayed on the pillow, her face lit by a radiant, free smile. He heard her laugh, moan, saw her move with an intimacy that once belonged to them. He wanted to scream, to stop her, but he was paralyzed.
He woke up abruptly, his breath ragged, his chest damp with sweat. The room was cold and desolate. The night felt endless. He closed his eyes again, exhausted, only to sink into new nightmares. Each time, he woke more drained, more hollowed out.
When the darkness finally gave way to the first hints of morning light, Mario lay on the sofa bed, staring blankly, his eyelids heavy. There was no rest, only a void pulsing under his skin, a sense of loss that had drained him of all energy. Mario has no idea on how he could handle all of this.
