From the author: Treason... It sounds terrifying. But it’s even more terrible to look at your contribution to the development of the sad outcome. A twenty-five-story glass building collapsed inside it. It crashed loudly and quickly, like something glass might fall. The fragments should have scattered in different directions, but, as luck would have it, they all ended up in one place - the heart. A heart that loves and believes in a relationship with her husband. The fall was so rapid and unexpected that she lost her breath and developed tachycardia. Horror seized me and my legs gave way. She didn’t know what to do with this condition. They didn't prepare her for this. They didn’t warn her, on the contrary, they assured her that this would not happen in her life. She was a welcome child. Relatives gathered around her crib. They oohed and aahed, were touched and said, “What a sweet girl.” Mom and dad dressed up in beautiful dresses, tied their pigtails and took them out for a walk. True, it was difficult to call it a walk: while other children were running, screaming, actively exploring the world around them, she, in a white sundress, was sitting on a bench. Calm. Convenient. Clean. And maybe somewhere in the depths of my soul I wanted to yell with others, stir up mud with sticks, jump in puddles, come home grimy but happy, but my parents thought it was “wrong”, overly emotional, and somewhere even dangerous. Mom and Dad themselves were examples of calm, restraint, logic and unemotionality. The girl grew up to the delight of her parents, teachers in the garden because of convenience, and then teachers at school, then a wave of admiration passed through the institute and at her first job. Everywhere in the first rows! Collected, calm, restrained, non-conflicting. “Ideal, perfect” - these are the words that accompanied her in life. She really was like that. If you write at school - it’s so beautiful and without blots, if you’re a student at the institute - you’re an excellent student, if you’re in a company - it’s like someone who was listened to (after all, she spoke logically). And she tried to say the right things. She also planned to get married perfectly. Everything had to comply with the standard, traditions and only positive reactions from others. And now, when the beautiful, smooth glass building called “family” collapsed literally a year after the wedding, she couldn’t believe it. After all, she built her social unit so carefully, so patiently, so ideally. She polished the glass in the building until it was clean, constantly cleaned and put things on shelves, troubleshooted problems and kept an eye on the smooth emotional background. “What did I do wrong?” This was her first question at the meeting. Tears treacherously choked her, but she tried her best to keep “face” even in such an emotional moment. I could only imagine what efforts she was now using to maintain vigilance, calmness and a straight back, sitting on a soft sofa. The only thing she wanted now was to revive her high-rise building again. Glue the pieces of glass, install new doors and build another five to seven floors, so that “such beauty will never fall again.” Time after time, meeting after meeting, I had to be told that this was impossible. The collapsed building cannot be repaired; this place now needs to be cleared, leveled, we need to find out what contributed to the fall, admit with bitterness that the building was not stable and learn to live again. She didn't want to hear my words. It hurts. While she was crying and grieving, her husband, who blew up her designer creation with dynamite, moved out. This was still a collapsed hope for restoration. After all, she wanted to build something new for him. To evaluate it. For his admiration. For his approval. To be correct, hopes for new construction were fading. When the last fantasy, that everything could be returned “as it was,” collapsed completely, she began to listen to herself. Who am I? What am I really like? What do I really want? What gives me joy and pleasure? How do I allow myself to be different? What emotions do I experience and how do I show them? How do I reflect to others? How do I get from others what I would like to receive? and many, many other questions that