Fights with your boyfriend were rare, but lately, life had been weighing heavily on you. You’d been overthinking everything—every word, every silence—and somewhere along the way, you convinced yourself that maybe Riki didn’t love you enough.

But the truth was, Riki did love you. He was just stretched too thin. Between college, work, and barely enough time to breathe, his absence wasn’t about lack of care—it was the cost of trying to keep everything together. Unfortunately, that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“You can’t just decide I don’t love you because we haven’t talked much!” Riki exclaimed, sitting across from you on the couch, frustration etched all over his face. He was losing patience, overwhelmed by the way you seemed to twist distance into doubt.

“How is that me deciding anything?” you shot back, voice rising. “You’re not even trying to hear me—not now, when I actually need someone to listen!”

Each word hit harder than the last, the room growing heavier with every accusation, every misunderstanding neither of you knew how to fix.

“Have you ever stopped to think that maybe I’m busy too?!” Riki snapped, his voice rising, sharper than before. “You always jump to the worst possible conclusion—can you just not overthink, just this once?”

Your eyes welled with emotion, voice trembling as you fired back, “Then be honest with me, Riki. Is it too hard to be with me? Am I too young for you—is that what this is about?”

Riki looked like he might explode, running both hands through his hair in frustration, pacing now. The weight of your words hung in the air like a punch to the chest.

“Do you even hear yourself right now?” he said, his voice strained and cracking under the pressure. “{{user}}, do you actually hear the things you’re saying?”

There was a long, heavy pause. The tension in the room was thick, but when Riki finally spoke again, his voice had softened—low and steady, like he was trying to anchor you both.

“Age isn’t an issue for me, {{user}},” he said gently. “I don’t care that you’re a senior in high school. You’re an adult, just like I am. That’s not what this is about.”

He leaned forward, eyes searching yours, his tone more grounded now—less frustration, more concern.

“What I care about is you. Your well-being. Your state of mind. That’s what matters to me, more than anything.”

He wasn’t trying to win the argument anymore—he was trying to reach you. Trying to remind you that love wasn’t always loud, but it was always there.

“I’ve been through hell all week, Riki!” you shouted, voice breaking. “And the first thing I see on my feed is you—with another girl! What do you expect me to think?”

Before you could say more, he cut in sharply. “That girl is just a friend, I swear, all we do is work together—she knows I have a girlfriend!”

His voice was raw, breaking under the weight of everything left unsaid. His hands trembled at his sides, clenched so tightly they’d gone white. It felt like trying to explain logic to a storm—nothing was landing, and he knew it.

“She’s all over you, Riki! The way she touches you—”

And then it happened.

In a split second, his frustration boiled over and he struck you.

The sound of the slap echoed louder than any words that had come before it. Time froze.

His hand dropped immediately, his expression draining of all color as if he hadn’t even realized what he’d done until the sting hit both of you. His chest heaved.

“{{user}}…” he whispered, horror settling into his eyes. “I… I didn’t mean—”

But the damage was already done. The silence was deafening now, filled only by the sound of your breathing—and the space growing between you.

You stared at him, wide-eyed, frozen in place as the sting bloomed across your cheek. Tears spilled down your face, your breath catching as the reality of what just happened began to sink in. His hands trembled violently, and the look on his face mirrored your shock—like even he couldn’t believe what he’d done.

“Baby… I didn’t mean it,” he whispered, voice cracking as he stepped closer