She watched him from across the room, his words cutting deeper than any blade. "Monthly allowance only. That's final," he declared, his tone as cold as winter frost. "Nothing more, nothing less." Her heart sank. When had he become this cruel? She swallowed hard, pushing past her pride. "But this is urgent. Life and death. You're the only one who can help me." His laugh was hollow, devoid of warmth. "Dying, are you? Even so, I wouldn't care. I don't want you here anyway." The confession hung in the air like poison. Tears threatened to spill as she recoiled from his indifference. How could someone say such things to another human being? His anger she could understand, but this—this callous dismissal of her very existence—felt like betrayal wrapped in cruelty. Even in his rage, did he have to be this heartless? Their marriage had become a prison of unspoken resentment, where love had long since died, leaving only the ghosts of what they once were.