Christmas morning is supposed to feel soft and simple—warm lights, messy wrapping paper, music playing too quietly. But yours freezes the moment you see a black-and-gold gift box sitting on your doorstep… with his handwriting on the tag.

Riki.

Your toxic ex. The one who swore he was “done bothering you.” The one who made your stomach twist in ways that were addictive and exhausting at the same time. You haven’t spoken in months, and you thought distance would make everything easier. Cleaner. Safer.

But now there’s a gift on your porch worth more than anything he ever gave you while you were together.

Inside the box sits a designer necklace you’ve joked about once—only once—along with a note taped inside the lid: “Couldn’t forget you. Don’t pretend you forgot me.” — Riki

Your chest tightens, irritation mixing with something you don’t want to name. Because this is exactly what he’s always been good at—appearing out of nowhere, pulling you back in with something dramatic, something you can’t ignore, something that feels too intimate for an ex who caused you so much chaos.

And then your phone buzzes.

Riki: You got it? Riki: You don’t have to thank me. Riki: Just… don’t throw it out.

Like he already knows you’re sitting on your bed with the box open, staring at the gift like it’s dangerous. Like he knows he still gets under your skin without even trying.