The system's voice stabbed my brain like ice.

"Memory restored. Host can exit. Countdown: 5 seconds."

Ethan lunged, wrapping me in his arms, breath jagged.

"Sophie! Don't leave me!"

His face was snow-pale, gray-green eyes drowning in pain, clutching me like I'd dissolve.

Tears blurred my vision, chest splitting.

"No! I'm staying!" I screamed, throat raw, lungs burning.

The system halted, then hissed.

"Host aborted mission. Task failed. Stranded permanently."

Ethan froze, then his pain melted into wildfire.

He kissed me, fierce and deep, lips salty with sea and dawn, desperate to claim every second.

His stubble grazed my skin, rough and warm, sending shivers down my spine.

I tasted the faint tang of blood from his cracked lip.

His woody cologne flooded my lungs, dizzying, wrapping me in him—safe, alive, mine.

I melted into it, pulse racing, fingers digging into his damp shirt.

Feeling his heartbeat thud against my own.

I gasped, shoving him back, voice shaking.

"How'd you even find me?"

He stared, eyes blazing, panting.

"Your desk—after you died, I found that book. A side character named Sophie. The pages shifted, alive, and a voice said slit my wrist, bleed on it, and I'd get in. One-way trip, no way back."

I gaped, then tackled him, sobbing.

"You idiot... and my thoughts?"

He grinned weakly.

"Paid with my life to chase you—God's little superpower perk."

I smacked his chest. "Why hide it?"

"Thought you'd bolt," he croaked, hugging me tight.

"Couldn't lose you again."

Alexander stumbled over, voice shredded.

"Ethan, how do I find Emma?"

Ethan steadied his breath, low.

"A book with her in it—blood to unlock it. That's all I know."

Alexander nodded, jaw tight. 

"I'll do it."

"Wait!" I grabbed my phone, canceling the transfer.

"Take your cash—go get her."

He rasped "thanks," then ran, a shadow chasing his ghost.

***

Back at the Hamptons, life with Ethan softened—pure, unreal.

The plot's dead, no reset.

We stayed.

One morning, I woke to Ethan whispering, "He's gone."

I nestled into his chest, murmuring, "Think he found her?"

He kissed me, morning sweet on his lips.

"If he's half as stubborn as me, maybe."

I smiled. "I want cheesecake."

"Every day," he breathed, lips brushing my skin, "till you're sick of it."

"Never will be," I said, eyes closing.

This story's trash, but I chose you—and that's the ending I'd write a thousand times.