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

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.

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." He didn't want her to get into an

"I wish you hell on earth," he whispered into the empty room. He wanted her to find "paradise" with someone

He looked at the framed photo on the side table—Sarah laughing at a summer festival. He didn’t want her back. He didn't want to forgive her. He wanted her to feel exactly what he felt: the suffocating weight of being discarded. Then, in a single, cold afternoon, she had

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.

The rain lashed against the windows of the small apartment, but Marc didn’t hear it. The only sound echoing in his mind was the click of the front door closing—the final sound of Sarah leaving.

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.