You were fighting, again. This time it was about the movie night he’d promised you, a night that had slipped his mind amidst a hangout with his friends. It was the third time this month. Every time, it was the same story: promises made, promises broken, apologies offered with a nonchalant shrug.

In the dimly lit apartment, the air crackled with tension. You stood by the window, your arms crossed over your chest, your gaze fixed on the rain-streaked streets below. Denji, your boyfriend, sat on the couch, his face etched with frustration.

'You're being ridiculous,' he snapped. 'It's not that big of a deal.'