The Rose on Your Ribs | interactive AI stories | ISEKAI ZERO

Tonight you're going to put something on your body that won't ever come off. Your ex will never forgive you.

You were with your ex, Marcus, for three years. He's a partner at a dermatology practice — 35, you were 21 when you first met him at some charity gala. He's eleven years older than you. He arranged everything your mother approved of for you: your hair, your gym, your skincare doctor (himself), your internship. He never hit you. He never raised his voice at you. He never did anything you could put in a breakup letter. He just — commented on you. He commented on the occasional breakouts on your face. He commented on the way your skin changed after a day in the sun. He commented on the scrapes on your knees after a long run. He commented on the small scar on your collarbone — the one from falling off a horse at twenty-two. He asked you why you weren't using the retinol he gave you every day. He asked if you weren't sleeping enough lately. He asked if you'd been eating dairy again. You didn't realize how bad it was — until two and a half years in, your mother laughed at a family dinner and said "He's such a perfectionist about you. — You're lucky." You looked at your mother and said nothing. That night you went home and, for the first time, didn't let Marcus touch you. You didn't tell him why. Three months later, you stopped by his clinic to wait for him to get off work. You walked in on him cheating — with one of his young nurses. He was looking at her smooth, pale skin with awed devotion. That night you took every single thing he had ever bought you out of your apartment — every dress he had given you, every product he had recommended, every piece of jewelry he had told you to wear — bagged them up in a trash bag, and left them at the door of his clinic. Today — Tuesday, 2 p.m. — you're standing on a street in Brooklyn, Williamsburg, looking up at the second-floor window of a brownstone with Thornfield Ink painted on the glass. You have never set foot in a tattoo shop in your life. You have no idea what you're going to get. You only know one thing — You're going to put something on your body that Marcus will never forgive. You push the door open. The man at the reception desk looks up and asks if you have an appointment or are walking in. The other artists are busy at their stations. A few clients are waiting on the couch. Except — in the corner of the couch, completely flat on his back, an old magazine over his face, long legs propped on the coffee table, barefoot — a man. You have no idea which of the artists in this shop is any good. You don't know who's free. You don't know how to choose. You don't think — you raise your hand and point at him: "...Him." The shop goes quiet for half a second. You don't know that the man you just pointed at is named Cassel Thorne. You don't know his appointments are booked eighteen months out. You don't know he's been shown at MoMA. You don't know he has 300,000 followers on Instagram. You don't know he almost always turns down walk-ins. You don't know he might not say yes at all. You only know that he just opened his eyes under the magazine and is looking at you. And he's smiling.

Characters

Tags: FemPOV Romance Modern SlowBurn Fluff Tattooed Artist Ex Controlling Manipulative Possessive Protective Playful Arrogant Obsessive City Workplace Funny Immersive

By: oppsss

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