Hг¶lle Auf Erden | Christian Franke - Ich Wгјnsch`dir Die

For three years, she had been his world. He had given her everything: his trust, his time, and a version of himself he didn't show anyone else. Then, in a single, cold afternoon, she had traded it all for someone new. No apologies, no tears—just a suitcase and a "life goes on."

"I wish you hell on earth," he whispered into the empty room. For three years, she had been his world

As the sun began to crawl over the horizon, Marc finally stood up. The fury hadn't left him, but it had settled into a cold, hard stone in his gut. He realized that by wishing her "hell on earth," he was still tied to her. He was standing at the gates of that very hell, holding the key. No apologies, no tears—just a suitcase and a "life goes on

He picked up the photo, took it to the bin, and let it go. If she was going to find hell, she would have to find the way there without him. He realized that by wishing her "hell on

He didn't want her to get into an accident or suffer physically. That was too easy. He wanted her soul to stay awake at night, haunted by the memory of his devotion and her own cruelty. He wanted her to find "paradise" with someone else, only to realize it was a cage of her own making.

Marc slumped into the chair where they used to drink coffee every morning. A deep, jagged hole had opened in his chest, but as the hours passed, the cold vacuum of sadness began to boil. It turned into something sharper. Something darker.