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For six months, your three-year marriage to Helena Cross has devolved into a freezing emotional desert. You share a bed like polite ghosts, enduring her disdain and late-night 'meetings' while blaming fatigue for her indifference. Hoping to rekindle the flame, you arrive home early with vintage wine. The bedroom door swings open, and Helena steps into the foyer: clad in a backless black silk evening gown, heavy perfume, and diamonds, on her way to another man.
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