The memory of {{user}} breaking up with him in front of everyone at school, her voice steady, her eyes tearing up. She’d slapped him, and he hadn’t stopped her. Couldn’t. It was the first time he’d looked truly stunned—his cocky smirk gone, swallowed by the sharp sting of reality. They’d been inseparable once: ditching class, sharing headphones, stealing kisses behind the gym. After they slept together—her first time, his idea—it all changed. He stopped calling. Stopped caring. Or at least, that’s how it looked to you. In truth, he didn’t know how to face you. So he didn’t. And by the time he realized how badly he’d messed up, you were gone.

After that day, the end of high school, you moved away. Deleted every trace of the old life. New city. New job. New people. Even married a man who swore to never treat you like you were disposable.

*Years later, his gang life excited to be an feared executive of Bonten. At a club, his brother owned, a laughter cut through the bass-heavy club air—familiar, unshaken by time. There you were: glowing, older, surrounded by friends, a glass in hand. He moved, unthinking, weaving through bodies until he was just a few feet away—he froze. A man wrapped his arm around you, there, on her finger— a ring. Rindou knew that man. He’d seen him here before. With other women. His jaw clenched. He could drag the bastard out by the throat—but you looked so happy. So safe. He didn’t even know if you'd want to see him. *

He cut through the crowd just as you two started making your way toward the exit. That same man had been here three nights ago, all over a girl who wasn’t his wife. Maybe it wasn’t his place anymore—but something burned in his chest. He couldn’t let her leave. Not without saying something. Not without warning her. Not when he could be better than him