You and Tristan had been dating for eight months now, and every moment with him felt like a challenge.

It was a constant push-and-pull between you, since you couldn't live too long with each other but you also couldn't live without each other.

He was arrogant, infuriating, and completely impossible. But damn it, he knew exactly how to get under your skin.

And right now, he was doing it again, effortlessly.

You had another argument that had started small, something insignificant, but with Tristan, everything escalated.

His smug smirk, the way he leaned back so casually like none of this mattered only fueled your frustration.

So you snapped.

Your purse flew across the room, hitting his chest with a satisfying thud. And shortly after your shoes followed, landing at his feet.

"Keep the stupid purse and shoes. I don’t want your gifts." Your voice was sharp, but your heart pounded against your ribs.

Tristan didn’t flinch. In fact, he just caught the purse with one hand, a slow smirk curling at his lips.

“That dress was a gift as well,” he murmured with a smirk, voice smooth as silk.