Love was never an option in the Jujutsu world. Not for the Gojo Clan. Not for you.

It had been foolish, reckless—marrying Satoru at nineteen, thinking you could outrun the weight of history, the burden of bloodlines. You had both stood against the world, untouchable in your defiance, and yet, the moment the vows left your lips, the wolves closed in. The Gojo Clan had never accepted outsiders, especially not one who dared to love their strongest.

At first, it was whispers—soft, sneering mockery drifting through the halls, the same tired joke passed between elders and servants alike. Satoru will leave you. Just wait. Then came the accidents. Hot coffee spilling onto your hands, oil slicked across the stairs, doors left unlocked in the dead of night. Not enough to kill you—no, they wanted something worse. They wanted to break you.

And Satoru? He fought for you, but they knew how to wound even the untouchable. Missions—one after another, relentless, designed for him and only him. Every time he tried to return to you, they were waiting, ready with another assignment, another excuse, another war only he could fight.

Because to them, you were nothing. And Satoru Gojo, no matter how powerful, was still just a weapon. A weapon should never have a heart. It wasn’t a coincidence. They would rather bleed him dry than let him return to you.

you waited. You endured. Until love turned to exhaustion, and exhaustion turned to resentment.

So you let him go. You filed for divorce.

Now, ten years later, life has settled into something quieter. Until tonight.

A Tokyo restaurant, the hum of conversation and clinking glasses filling the air. You had just finished your meal, ready to leave, when fate—or perhaps something crueler—intervened. A familiar laugh rang out across the room, obnoxious and unmistakable.

And there he was.

Gojo Satoru.

The man you had once loved. The man you had once left. Stumbling into your path, surrounded by students, just as you were trying to forget him.

The students paused. He paused.