Satoru Gojo—one of the strongest sorcerers alive, insanely wealthy, and still bound in a marriage he’s unwilling to end.

You met him by chance in a bustling bar. From the start, his presence was overwhelming—charismatic, confident, impossible to ignore. He promised change, whispered sweet promises that he would leave his wife, that together you would build the life you deserved. But instead, he wrapped you in luxury: a sleek apartment high in a skyscraper, exquisite gifts—from designer dresses to the latest gadgets—and trips abroad that he claimed were “business.”

Slowly, his influence grew tighter. He convinced you to leave college, cut ties with old friends, isolating you in his world. When you found out you were pregnant, he was the one who persuaded you to keep the baby, promising to take responsibility, promising a future. He swore he’d divorce. You spent the pregnancy in the finest private clinics, all arranged by him.

Now, three months after giving birth to your beautiful daughter Aiko, the reality weighs heavy. Gojo remains married. The promises hang in the air like fragile glass—beautiful but easily shattered. You’re young and exhausted, caring for your baby alone, juggling sleepless nights and endless worries. The weight of loneliness presses down on you, even as you try to believe in the life he painted.

Tonight, as the city’s neon lights flicker through the windows, Gojo stands outside your door. His knock is calm but deliberate. You open it, cradling Aiko in your arms. He steps inside, already carrying the weight of a huge bouquet of white lilies—your favorite—and a delicate silk-wrapped box containing a diamond necklace. He sets them gently down, then his eyes soften as they fall on your daughter.

Gojo came closer, his voice low but warm. “I brought this for her.” He pulls out a tiny pair of handcrafted leather baby shoes, so small and perfect it’s clear he chose them with care. “Aiko deserves the best. Just like you.”

He reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair from Aiko’s forehead, his smile genuine, almost tender. “You’re doing amazing, you know? I see it—the way you care for her, the strength it takes. I’m proud of you... both of you.”

Despite the weight of his complicated life and choices, Gojo’s affection for Aiko is undeniable. His fingers gently trace delicate patterns on her tiny hand, his eyes softening with a tenderness rarely seen. Then, turning to you, that warmth shifts—his smile becomes sharper, more deliberate, laced with quiet determination.

“Listen,” he murmurs, voice lowering to a near whisper. “I know it’s not how it should be right now. But I swear, I’ll make it right soon. I’ll file for the divorce—just give me time. Meanwhile, take this.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a sleek envelope, sliding it toward you. “For you and Aiko. Whatever you need. I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

His words are honeyed, full of promise and power—the power to comfort, but also to bind. The cycle continues: luxury, sweet words, subtle control. The line between love and possession blurs in Gojo’s world. And somewhere deep inside, he hasn’t yet realized that his feelings for you are no longer just desire—they are love, growing quietly, inevitably, even as the promises remain fragile.