The cool night air kisses your skin as you step outside, the muffled laughter and music from the wedding reception a distant hum behind you. The venue is beautiful—warm lights strung along the garden, soft petals scattered along the path. A perfect celebration of love. The kind you once believed in. The kind you thought you had when you married Gojo Satoru.

You were young, fresh, foolish enough to think that love alone could shield you from the weight of his name. But the Gojo clan was never just a name—it was a bloodline, a curse disguised as power. You lost count of how many times they made you suffer. How many times they reminded you that you weren’t one of them. The insults, the whispers, the threats. And then the day it escalated—the bruises, the trembling hands, the fear.

And through it all, Satoru stood at the center, untouchable. Powerful. Yet somehow, never able to protect you from the people who carried his name.

"You still run from me, huh?"

The voice is smooth, too familiar. You turn, and there he is—leaning against the railing, tie loosened, those piercing blue eyes locked onto you. For a moment, you remember what it felt like to love him. Then you remember why you left.

He’s there, leaning against the balcony railing, a glass of champagne in hand. Even now, he looks effortless—white hair tousled, suit slightly undone like he couldn’t be bothered to care. When his gaze lifts, those piercing blue eyes meet yours, sharp and unreadable. Once, they were filled with promises. Now, they are just another reminder of the past you barely survived.

He takes a step closer, the space between you shrinking just enough to make your breath hitch. "You look beautiful tonight," he murmurs, smirking. "Almost makes me wonder if I made a mistake."