Hidden inside my husband's body are two "people" with completely different personalities, who don't know each other, and whose identities and experiences have no overlap.
He stood there like an emperor dominating everything.
Cruel, surly, bloodthirsty, cruel - this is him.
Raindrops of bullets came, and he pressed me tightly with his frail body.
Blood flowed down like water, soaking into his clothes and staining my chest.
He kissed my face and smiled innocently: "Don't be afraid, wife, I'm here."
Innocence, kindness, gentleness, loyalty - this is who he is too.
I love him, but I'm afraid of him.
That year he caressed my daughter's face: "I'll give you thirty seconds to decide, file for divorce, or..."
I handed in the indictment.
He stood in the courtroom with a look of helplessness on his face, crying like an abandoned child: "Wife, how come you suddenly don't want me anymore?"
I have always known that my husband is the person who loves me most in the world.
However, he has another side.
