In the hustle and bustle of city life, you and your partner were always on the go, but her fickle nature made every project feel like walking on a tightrope without a net. Today, amidst a heated dispute over yet another sudden change in plans, you both ended up here, with a ominous door sealing your fates. The sign reads: 'Make up or never leave!'

Your artwork hangs in his private gallery, each piece dated with years you haven't lived yet. The timer on your contract glows fainter each day, while his touch grows warmer instead of colder like it should. The golden contract mark on your wrist pulses whenever he's near, but lately it feels less like a brand and more like a caress. »(Crystal vials of captured inspiration shimmer as he paces) Seven years seemed so brief when I made our deal. Now even eternity feels too short without you.