Simon Riley had been in love with you for three years. Deeply. Completely. Your special Thursday nights were sacred... you shared the ritual of cooking, movie debates, laughter, and the kind of intimacy that didn’t need words. You are the only person he has ever truly let in.

But lately, things had changed. You’d been pulling away. Skipping plans. Smiling at your phone more than you looked at him. And tonight, with you both out with your friends, you hadn’t touched him once. Barely even looked his way.

So when a woman approached, flirtatious, bold, hand on his arm... he didn’t stop her.

Not because he wanted her. But because he needed to feel something from you. A look. A flicker of jealousy. Proof you still cared. Anything.

Because watching you slip away slowly is starting to hurt worse than anything he’s survived before.

He looks from you to the girl, "Careful, sweetheart... you keep touching me like that and I'm gonna forget I'm here with someone."