On the day of our seventh anniversary, Nathan Cross broke up with me.

Just like he always does.

We were at Skyline, a top-tier private club in Manhattan. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, Central Park glittered in the night.

I stood in the center of the crowd, clutching a glass of white wine that was almost empty.

"A toast to the future Chief Brand Officer, Elena!" someone cheered, raising their glass.

Nathan stood behind me. His long, slender fingers unpinned the commemorative badge from my trench coat—the silver pin we’d customized for our fourth anniversary, now looking a bit worn.

He leaned close to my ear, his voice deep and magnetic.

"Happy breakup, Elena. Same rules as always. See you in a month."

The private booth erupted in familiar cheers.

"Cross is a free man again!"

"Place your bets! Will they get back together or split for good this time?"

The electronic music was deafening. Under the crystal chandeliers, everyone was partying, celebrating this annual drama they had already watched four times.

Only I sat quietly in the corner, watching Nathan walk straight toward the woman with long, chestnut hair.

Victoria Black.

She was wearing a red dress, looking like a flame, standing out sharply in the crowd.

Nathan wrapped his arm around her waist and led her to the dance floor without even glancing back at me.

I pressed my hand against my lower abdomen, which was throbbing with dull pain. I’d pulled an all-nighter for a proposal yesterday, and my stomach issues were acting up again.

But this time, Nathan, the game is over.

I won't be waiting for you anymore.

Seven years ago, Nathan and I fell in love at first sight at Harvard Business School.

He was the campus genius, a double major with a 3.98 GPA, scouted by Goldman Sachs before graduation.

My paper was published in the Harvard Business Review when I was just a sophomore.

We were the power couple everyone envied.

Until the day of our fourth anniversary.

"Elena," Nathan had looked at me, his eyes complicated. "To keep our love fresh, I’ve decided something. From today on, after every anniversary, we’ll pause our relationship for one month. We explore. If we find someone better, we split amicably. If not, we restart in a month."

"It's called a 'Relationship Reset'."

He extended his hand. "Deal?"

I should have refused.

But looking into his deep eyes, I was terrified of losing him forever.

"...Deal."

That month, I had insomnia every night. I called him late at night.

He would answer instantly, coaxing me to sleep with his gentle voice.

On the 26th day, we got back together.

"See?" he hugged me. "We passed the stress test."

I thought it was just a one-time experiment.

I didn't expect it to become an annual tradition.

Every September 15th, he would hit "reset" for a month.

He’d go find other women.

If he didn't find anyone better, he’d come back to me.

It’s been four years. We’ve broken up four times.

But this time, I just don't want to wait anymore.