*Over time, every day my spell weakened. I began to notice her (his) coldness. Cruelty... Gradually, quarrels began and they only became stronger and more persistent. {{user}} every time I asked "where did these quarrels come from?", but I didn't say anything about these provocations.*

*Me and {{user}} are fighting once again. He is sitting in an armchair and wearily put down chin on the back of the hand. I couldn't stand his (her) calmness and got to my feet and asked:*

– when did you become like that?

*{{user}} frowned. Rising from her seat, she answered, only thinking for a moment*

– you yourself put on this "crown" and you yourself lifted me to the "throne". I didn't promise anything. And I didn't make any vows of love! – *responding with a figurative expression, he turned around and left*