Damian’s favorite game was making me open his “reconciliation mystery boxes.” Whenever we fought, he would block my number for three days, then drop a custom link into a text. “If you draw ‘Better Luck Next Time,’ don’t bother me.” “If you draw ‘Reconciliation Pass,’ I might condescend to let you apologize.” Over the years, I had drawn “Seven Days of Silent Treatment.” I had drawn “Public Apology.” I had even drawn a patronizing “Talk later” sent while he was having dinner with another woman. When I drew the Reconciliation Pass for the sixth time, Damian pulled me into his lap, his smile lazy and dark. “See, Jill? No matter how terrible your luck is, you always end up right back where you belong—with me.” I thought he was just being arrogant. Until I saw the custom mystery box app he built for Sadie, our company’s new intern. Her page had only one prize: [Damian’s Unconditional Favor.] Probability: 100%. When Sadie accidentally knocked over my hot coffee, Damian shielded her, checking her hands for burns. My own hand was scorched red, but when I gasped, he just knit his brows in irritation. “You’re not a little girl anymore, Jill. Can you stop demanding to be babied?” That night, he sent his seventh mystery box as usual. “Open it. Draw the pass and come back.” I stared at the glowing screen for a long time. Then, without opening the link, I hit “Block”. For the seventh time, I was finally ready to set myself free. … I was only halfway through packing when the door lock chimed. Damian walked in holding a brown paper bag from an artisanal bakery. The moment he caught sight of my suitcase sitting in the entryway, his face darkened. “What is this supposed to mean?” He slammed the door shut and walked straight up to me, shoving his phone screen almost into my face. In the messaging thread, a glaring red exclamation mark hovered beside the text he had just tried to send. “Blocking me? Packing your bags?” He stood over me, temper simmering beneath his breath. “What are you playing at, Jill?” “Nothing,” I said softly. Damian froze for a second. Usually, the moment he demanded an explanation with that cold tone, I would rush to give it. I’d explain everything—from why he protected Sadie to how badly the coffee had scalded my skin—my eyes red as I begged him to admit that he cared about me, even just a little. But this time, I said nothing at all. He stared at me for a few seconds, unaccustomed to my silence, before his lips curled into a faint smirk. “Nothing? Look at you, getting bold. Last time you drew seven days of cold war, you were creeping on my Instagram from an alt account by day two. You’re putting on quite a show this time.” Instead of answering, I hid my hand behind my back. “Why are you here?” “To make it up to you,” he said matter-of-factly. He unscrewed a tube of burn ointment and leaned down, dabbing it onto my hand. “If it hurt, why didn’t you dodge? Coffee splashes toward you and you can’t even move your cup?” I looked at him. “You were standing right beside me.” Damian paused, then chuckles softly. “So what? You want me to fire Sadie over a spilled latte? She’s fresh out of college; her face went white as a sheet. Why are you picking on her?” He blew gently on my skin, then pushed a box containing a chestnut tart onto the coffee table. “Eat a few bites. Clear your head. Your stomach is terrible—throwing a tantrum on an empty stomach only leaves me dealing with your mess later.” The words felt painfully familiar. Back in college, when my gastritis flared up, he had carried me six blocks through the pouring rain to find an urgent care clinic. Later, every time he hurt me, he used fragments of that old tenderness as currency to settle his debts. I had spent years letting those half-hearted gestures fool me, convincing myself he cared while I wiped the blood off the knives he drove into my chest. “Why does her mystery box only have “Unconditional Favor”?” I asked. “It’s just a game, Jill.” “Mine is a game too. So why does every option punish me?” Damian leaned back into the leather couch, reaching out to drag me down beside his knee. “Because you can handle it. Sadie’s fragile—if she drew a ‘Better Luck Next Time,’ she’d cry all night. You’re different. You’re mature.” “Mature.” Every time he praised my maturity, he was asking me to compromise. I pulled my hand back. “I don’t want to be mature anymore.” Damian stared at me for a beat, amused. “Fine. I’ll keep you even if you’re acting like a brat. Now unblock me once you’ve had your fit. Don’t make me take your phone.” Before the words fully left his mouth, his phone chimed. The contact name “Luna” flashed across the screen. Damian answered almost instantly, his voice dropping into a soft, protective hush. “Why are you crying? Take a breath, tell me.” Sadie said something on the other end, and he stood up, grabbing his coat. I looked at the tart on the table, only a single slice cut out. “Aren’t you here to make it up to me?” “She’s running a fever alone in her apartment. I need to check on her.” He leaned down, smoothing my collar. “Finish the tart. Apply the ointment. Don’t compare yourself to her, Jill. She needs me. You don’t.” At the front door, he turned back. “And don’t block me again. You can throw your little fits, but whether we break up or not is up to me.” As the door clicked shut, my phone vibrated with a text notification containing a new mystery box link. Damian had manually triggered a draw for me. [Congratulations! You won: Forgive Damian and text Sadie to ask about her fever.] Below it, he appended a text: “See? Even fate knows you can’t leave me.” I stared at the lines of text, then picked up the untouched tart and the ointment and threw them directly into the trash. Then I slipped off the matching silver ring I had worn for five years and packed it into the bottom of my trunk. …… At the morning meeting the next day, Damian set a warm chai latte in front of me. “Still pouting?” I remained silent. He pulled out the chair beside me and sat down, tapping the side of the cup with his knuckle. “It’s hot. Drink it before your stomach starts aching again and you accuse me of not caring.” Someone across the conference table chuckled. “Boss sure knows how to coax. Jill, you should give him a break by now.” Damian looked at me, raising an eyebrow playfully. “You hear that? The ramp is built right to your feet. Don’t just stand there.” Sadie stood near the projector holding her laptop, her eyes still puffy. Seeing me look over, she explained in a tiny voice, “Jill, yesterday evening Damian just dropped me at urgent care. Please don’t misunderstand…” Damian tapped the table softly. “Alright, she’s not that petty.” I picked up the chai and took a slow sip. Just as the corner of his mouth began to lift, Sadie opened the deck for the evening’s brand launch. In the next second, the room fell dead silent. Projected on the wall was the guest list sent to the client last night. The names and seating arrangements for all twelve VIP guests were completely wrong. The client was already downstairs; if this version went live, the entire launch event would become an industry joke. Sadie began to tremble in panic. “I… I checked it! But Jill told me to send it out last night!” Everyone turned to look at me. I raised my gaze calmly. “I didn’t create that file, and it never passed through my hands.” Damian spun his pen between his fingers, his voice dropping slightly. “You’re her mentor. If she was intimidated to come to you, did you really just wash your hands of it?” I met his eyes. “You were the one who told her last night not to bother me.” “I meant don’t poke you while you’re angry, not abandon the project.” “So it’s still my fault?” “Jill, this isn’t about right or wrong right now.” He set the pen on the table with a firm “clack”. “The client is downstairs. Fix the issue first. Apologize to Sadie so she doesn’t carry this negative energy into the event.” I thought I had misheard him. “She’s the intern, you’re the senior. She’s terrified right now—how is she supposed to work through the rest of the day?” Damian looked at me, his tone almost patient. “Don’t force me to say harsh words in front of everyone.” “I didn’t do anything wrong.” “Do you really have to be this rigid?” I clenched my hands in my lap. “What if I refuse?” He leaned in closer, leaning past my chair to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture looked intimate, but his voice was pressed dangerously low. “Jill, don’t force me to humiliate you in front of the whole team. Be good, and I’ll take you out to dinner tonight.” I looked at his face, inches away from mine, and suddenly remembered our sophomore year of college. He had gotten into a fistfight over me, leaving his eyebrow split open and bleeding. Back then, he had wiped the blood away and said, “Whoever makes Jill bow her head, I’ll make them kneel and apologize.” I used to think that was the backbone he gave me. So why was he the person making me bow my head the most? My chest constricted, aching with a suffocation that went deep into my ribs. I stood up and faced Sadie. “I’m sorry.” Sadie quickly wiped a tear. “Jill, please don’t be like that… it makes it seem like Damian forced you. I really don’t blame you…” Damian smirked. “She’s just stubborn. Once it’s out, she’s fine.” I spent the next hour re-adjusting the guest arrangements and calling the brand reps to apologize. During the final rehearsal, Sadie tripped over an AV cable, and the full glass of red wine in her hand splashed directly onto my dress. Damian’s knee-jerk reaction was to pull her into his chest, shielding her completely. “Did you fall? Are you okay?” Sadie shook her head, her face buried in his chest. “I’m fine… but Jill’s dress…” Only then did Damian look at me. Dark red wine was dripping down the hem of my cream dress, sticking uncomfortably to my legs. He knit his brows. “How much was it? I’ll reimburse you.” “It was my birthday gift from you last year.” “Even better. Buy a new one.” He slipped off his tailored suit jacket. I instinctively reached out, assuming he was passing it to me, but he turned and wrapped it gently around Sadie’s shoulders. “The AC is cold, and she had a fever last night.” Sadie huddled inside his oversized jacket, asking in a small voice, “Does Jill hate me?” Damian tousled her hair, but his eyes were fixed on my face. “She doesn’t hate you.” He paused, his smile casual and arrogant. “She just loves me too much.” The staff around us chuckled quietly. Standing in the middle of that laughter, I suddenly felt nothing at all—not even embarrassment. Damian held his hand out to me. “Let’s go.” “Where?” “Didn’t I promise to take you out to dinner?” He wrapped his fingers around my wrist, acting as if nothing had happened. “Tonight is all about you. Whatever you want, it’s yours.” …… Damian genuinely gave me his entire evening. He booked the corner table at the bistro where we had our very first date, ordered our steaks medium-rare, and even had the pastry chef swap out the dessert for the salt-caramel gateau I loved. He turned off his phone and pushed a deep blue velvet box across the crisp white tablecloth. “Open it.” Inside sat a ring. The center diamond wasn’t massive, but it was recut from the heirloom stone my late mother had left behind. I stared at it for a long time. Before my mother passed away, her biggest worry was my marriage. I had handed that diamond over to Damian three years ago, but he was always “too busy” to take me to a jeweler to get it set. I thought he had forgotten long ago. He took my hand, slowly pushing the ring onto my ring finger. “Pick a wedding date. So you stop overthinking every single day, worrying that someone else is going to take your spot.” I stared down at the diamond, unable to speak. He pinched my cheek gently. “Stunned silent?” “Why do you suddenly want to get married?” “It’s not sudden.” Damian leaned back into his chair, his tone relaxed. “You’ve been with me for so many years. Who else would I marry?” It wasn’t a romantic sentence. But for a split second, I wanted to cry. He looked up at me, his expression uncharacteristically earnest. “Jill, who else could I possibly end up with? Don’t you know that by now?” Of course I knew. And because I knew, I had stayed, over and over again. He pulled me into his arms, resting his chin against my head, kissing my temple. “Seventh reconciliation. Consider this your grand prize. Stop talking about ‘setting yourself free’—it sounds pathetic.” Leaning against his shoulder, I was a second away from telling him that the suitcase in the hallway was already packed, and that I had bought a one-way train ticket out of the city for next week. When the waiter brought out the cake, Damian stepped away to use the restroom. The phone he left on the table lit up suddenly. A text from Sadie flashed across the lock screen. “Damian, did you give her the ring? Is she super touched?” “Told you the mature type is easy to handle. Recutting her mom’s old diamond saves money and looks thoughtful so she stops nagging.” Immediately after, another message popped up. “Don’t forget my reward tomorrow at the press launch. I get my 100% Unconditional Favor! Whatever I ask, you can’t say no.” I stared at the glowing glass, the blood in my fingers turning ice cold. So even this gesture—this sweet, redemptive moment—was a script handed to him by Sadie. When Damian returned, he saw that I had pulled the ring off my finger. His face fell instantly. “What now?” I slid the phone toward him. He glanced at it, then pressed the side button to kill the screen. “She was just helping me brainstorm ideas to make you happy. You’re still not satisfied?” “That diamond was left to me by my mother.” “Which is why I turned it into an engagement ring.” He grabbed my hand, forcefully shoving the ring back onto my finger. The band scraped harshly against my knuckle, making me wince in pain, but he didn’t loosen his grip. “I pushed two meetings to eat dinner with you tonight. Are you really going to ruin everything over a single text?” I looked into his eyes. “If she asks for something tomorrow, will you agree?” “I don’t break my promises.” “What if what she wants is you?” Damian stared at me for a few seconds, then chuckled softly. “Then I’ll lend myself to her for a day. I’m coming home to you at night anyway.” I said nothing. He adjusted the ring so the diamond sat right in the center, his voice turning completely cold. “Jill, I’m giving you enough grace by marrying you. Whatever Sadie wants, I’m willing to give her—even if it makes you uncomfortable, just endure it.” He stood up and grabbed his jacket. “Keep the ring on. Tomorrow after the launch, we’re looking at wedding venues.” I lowered my head, staring at the ring. The light my mother had left behind was now locked onto my finger by him, like an inescapable chain. …… Before the press launch began the next morning, Damian thrust a cup of warm milk into my hands. “Last night is water under the bridge. After this, we go look at venues.” He adjusted the ring on my finger, his thumb grazing the old diamond. “Stop competing with an intern. You’re the one I’m marrying.” I had waited seven years for that sentence. I looked at him, and against my better judgment, I nodded. Maybe I just wanted to give this relationship one absolute, final chance. On stage, the host opened Sadie’s personalized mystery box. [Damian’s Unconditional Favor.] The host laughed, holding out the mic. “Miss Sadie, what are you going to redeem this favor for? Can you ask Damian to be your boyfriend for a day?” Sadie looked through the crowd directly at Damian. “I want him to propose to me in front of everyone.” The room erupted into wild cheers and flashing cameras. My fingers went rigid. Damian, however, showed no surprise at all. He just bent down and whispered in my ear, “Play along. Don’t make her look bad on stage.” I whipped my head around to look at him. “You knew?” “She mentioned it last night.” “Last night?” Last night, he had slid my mother’s diamond onto my finger and told me he was going to marry me. And on that exact same night, he had promised another woman that he wouldn’t say no to whatever she asked for. Damian frowned. “It’s just a show for the press. Where is your head going?” “What ring are you going to use?” His eyes fell on my hand. I immediately balled my hand into a fist. “Don’t touch it.” “Jill, the reporters are waiting.” “This belongs to my mother!” “It’s our engagement ring now.” He clamped his hand around my wrist, trying to pry my fingers open. The metal band scraped against my skin, leaving a raw, bleeding track across my knuckle. I was shaking from the pain, but he didn’t stop. “Your mom left this stone so you’d get married, didn’t she? What’s the harm in borrowing it for two minutes?” I pressed my thumb over the ring with everything I had. “I don’t consent to this.” Damian’s face went completely dead. “You were begging me for a marriage last night, and today you’re using this to negotiate with me?” He forced my fingers back one by one and stripped the ring off my hand. “I’m marrying you to give you dignity. Don’t take that dignity as your right to manage me.” I stared at my bare ring finger, feeling as though my chest had been carved open alive. “Damian, if you use that to propose to her, we are finished.” He let out a short, mocking laugh, as if he had heard the funniest joke in the world. “Threatening to break up again?” He leaned down, his breath cold against my ear as he whispered, “You’ve pulled this six times. Which time did you actually leave? Jill, don’t flatter yourself.” The spotlights flared brighter. He carried my mother’s diamond onto the stage, and amidst the roaring applause of the audience, he dropped to one knee before Sadie. “Miss Sadie, will you let me show you my unconditional favor this time?” Sadie nodded through her tears. He slid the ring onto her finger. Confetti rained down from the ceiling. On the jumbo screen behind them, they embraced—a picture-perfect, grand confession that demanded everyone’s blessing. It was beautiful. But standing in the darkest corner of the crowd, I felt as though my heart had been ground into raw meat. On her deathbed, my mother had held my hand and told me that this diamond was meant for the man who would truly cherish me. I had waited seven years, only to watch it placed onto the finger of another woman by the man who broke me. …… Backstage, Damian reached out to take the ring back. Sadie immediately shielded her hand, tears spilling over her eyelashes. “The press took photos of it! If I take it off now, won’t they think you were just making a fool of me?” I looked at him. “Give it back to me.” Damian glanced at me. “Let her wear it for now.” “I said, give it back.” “Enough!” He grabbed my wrist, dragging me forward until I was inches from his face. “This is Sadie’s first launch event as project lead. Are you really going to ruin her over an inanimate object?” A cold sensation ran through my entire body. “That is the last thing my mother left me.” “Dead people don’t die a second time just because a ring is missing.” The quiet in the green room was absolute. I stared at him, my ears ringing with a sharp, high-pitched static. Tears finally spilled over, completely out of my control. Damian saw them, but he just turned his face away in annoyance. “I’ll buy you a new one. Don’t cry here—it looks pathetic.” I raised my sleeve and wiped the wetness from my face. “You don’t need to buy a new one.” I looked at the diamond on Sadie’s hand, then raised my eyes to look at the man I had loved for seven years. “Keep the ring on her. And you can stay with her, too.” His expression turned icy. “Say that again.” “Let’s break up.” Damian let out a harsh laugh, his grip on my wrist tightening until it bruised. “Which time did you break up without waiting for me to come coax you back? If you really leave me, you won’t even survive long enough to draw the next reconciliation pass.” Before I could respond, Sadie’s phone rang loudly. She was swarmed by reporters in the parking garage, sobbing that she couldn’t breathe. Damian let go of my wrist instantly. I asked softly, “Didn’t you say you’d take me to look at wedding venues after this?” “She needs me right now.” “And what about me?” He grabbed his suit jacket, not even bothering to look back. “You’ll go home on your own once you’re done crying. If she collapses out there, nobody can clean up the mess today.” The heavy door slammed shut in front of me. I didn’t run after him. I didn’t wait. I went back to the apartment we had shared for five years, packed the rest of my clothes, erased my fingerprint from the smart lock, and placed the keys alongside the seven reconciliation passes inside a small paper box. This time, I was done waiting. In the back of his town car, Damian was leaning his head against the headrest, resting his eyes, when his phone buzzed. When he saw the app notification indicating I had sent him a mystery box, the corner of his mouth curved into a confident smirk. “Couldn’t even last three days,” he muttered to himself. He casually tapped the link. As the page loaded, the smile on Damian’s face froze completely.
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