The Yes Game Ended My Survival Mission Chapter 01

The Yes Game Ended My Survival Mission Chapter 01

At the reunion, my best friend dragged me into a game called “Of Course.”

She grinned and asked, “You know you don’t deserve Weston Cole, right? Because of your face.”

The table went dead silent.

I touched the jagged scar on my right cheek. “Of course.”

Her smile widened.

“And you know he’s embarrassed to be seen with you every time you two go out, right?”

I choked down the humiliation. “Of course.”

Weston kept his eyes on his phone, texting. He didn’t say a word in my defense.

Not until Sienna leaned into his chest on purpose, letting the matching necklace at her throat catch the light.

“And you know he slept at my place last night? That he wanted me three or four times?”

I looked up at the man I’d loved for five years.

He just frowned, telling me not to ruin the mood, eyes smiling as they slid toward her.

Something like a blade lodged in my throat. I couldn’t get the words out.

So I just nodded.

Sienna practically lit up.

“Last question. Didn’t you already want to break up with Weston anyway?”

I opened my mouth to answer, and a mechanical voice cut through my head instead.

[Mission failed. Host will be terminated in seven days.]

Our old classmates started jeering. “She’s still stupid in love with him. This was never a fair game.”

“Come on, somebody top off Wren’s glass.”

I looked around at everyone enjoying the show, and something in me went still. I even smiled.

I held Weston’s eyes and answered.

“Of course.”

…

Weston’s expression flickered, then he laughed under his breath. “Wren, quit being stubborn. I’ll drink for you.”

The music kept playing in the private room.

Sienna leaned against him, fingers idly playing with the pendant at her throat.

That necklace was called Tides.

Five years ago, right after Weston and I got together, he told me he loved the ocean.

I burned through dozens of sketches before I finally hand carved a matching pair of wave pendants.

His had a “W” on the back. Mine had an “R.”

Now the one that was supposed to be mine hung around Sienna’s neck.

The other rested against Weston’s chest.

Every time they moved, the two waves clicked softly together.

Weston caught me staring and set his phone down, annoyed.

“Sienna borrowed it for a promo shoot. Don’t make it weird.”

Sienna added, smiling, “I wore it all night.”

Someone at the table whistled.

Weston didn’t deny it. He just frowned at me.

“Wren, don’t turn a normal work thing into something dirty.”

Sienna covered her mouth, laughing softly.

“The studio lost power last night. I was scared being alone, so I asked Weston to stay.”

“Nothing happened. Do you really trust us that little?”

Weston handed her a napkin, then swapped my chilled wine for a glass of warm water without asking.

“Your stomach’s sensitive. Don’t drink anything cold.”

That small gesture froze me for a second.

Three years ago, when I first woke up after the fire, he’d fed me water spoonful by spoonful, exactly like that.

He’d told me that no matter what happened to my face, he’d never leave.

I’d just come out of skin graft surgery then, half my face wrapped in gauze. I couldn’t even look at a mirror.

Weston held me and said, “Wren, I’m never leaving you.”

I’d clung to that line like a lifeline for three straight years.

Now the rope had snapped without a sound.

Weston’s brow furrowed. “We barely get everyone together and you have to make it awkward for the whole table?”

Sienna stroked the necklace like she was explaining on his behalf.

“If you wore it out, all anyone would see is the scar on your face. It’d waste a design this good.”

A few muffled laughs went around the table.

When it came time for the group photo, our old class president held up her phone, glanced at me twice, and didn’t take the shot.

“Wren, why don’t you just take it for us instead?”

“Everyone else is showing their face. You’re the only one in a mask. It’ll look weird on Instagram.”

Nobody waited for me to agree. The phone was already in my hand.

Through the lens, Sienna stood beside Weston.

Their matching pendants pressed together.

My finger shook when I pressed the shutter.

My phone buzzed. A text from Weston.

“Don’t forget to settle the bill. I’ll bring your scar cream tonight.”

This time, I didn’t answer.

Back at the studio, I backed up years of payment records, design files, and old messages to the cloud.

When it was done, I sat alone in the empty room for a long time.

Then I deleted a reminder off my calendar.

[Next month: ring shopping with Weston.]