Emily watched as the tension between the two men escalated, her palms sweaty with anxiety. It was a confrontation she had unintentionally caused, and she knew that trying to mediate would only make things worse. Frustrated, she threw up her hands and said, "You two can argue all you want, I’m going to get some fresh air." Jackson quickly caught up to her as she moved toward the door. "I'll come with you," he said, possessively wrapping an arm around her shoulders, leading her out of the apartment with a firm grip. "Let’s head to the grocery store, okay? You promised you'd cook for me when we were in the UK but never got the chance. So, you’ll finally make it up to me tonight, right?" Emily sighed. "Does it have to be today?" "The sooner the better! You’re always busy, and who knows when you'll have time again? Come on, let’s go," he said, their voices fading as they left. Inside the now-quiet apartment, Satan stood alone at the large window, staring out into the night. The room felt colder, emptier, and devoid of the life that had briefly filled it. His footsteps echoed slightly in the spacious living room, as if to remind him of the emptiness. A few moments later, Dylan rushed in, panting as he hurried toward his boss. "Sir, I just saw Mrs.—I mean, Emily—and Jackson leave together... Is everything okay?" Satan remained silent, still standing at the window, his hand holding a cigarette between his fingers. Dylan darted forward, snatching the cigarette away and crushing it in his hand. "Sir! Do you want to ruin your throat for good?" Satan didn’t move, his fingers still hovering as if the cigarette were still there. After what felt like an eternity, he sighed and said, "I wasn’t smoking. I just needed to hold it, to smell it. It calms me down." "Sir..." Dylan began, but Satan raised his hand to stop him. "I know what you want to say, but don’t bother. I’m not going to hurt myself anymore. I just... I can’t find any outlet for my feelings right now. Everyone looks at me and sees a successful man, someone who owns vast properties, with wealth that could last for generations. But the truth is, I'm just a pathetic man... someone who isn’t loved by anyone." Dylan bit his lip, his expression torn. "That’s not true, sir. What if I went and begged her to come back? I could talk to her—Emily has a kind heart. She would listen if I pleaded with her—" "No." Satan’s refusal was firm. "I don’t want someone to come back out of pity. I want love, not sympathy."Dylan exhaled, defeated, his shoulders slumping. "Sir..." Satan interrupted, changing the subject. "How’s my grandmother’s health? Her blood pressure?" "She’s stable for now," Dylan answered, though his voice carried a note of concern. "But winter is dangerous for someone her age. The doctor said we need to keep a close eye on her, especially with her high blood pressure. She’s at risk for a heart attack or a stroke at any time." Satan nodded, letting out a weary sigh. "I’ve been a terrible grandson. All she ever wanted was a great-grandchild, and I..." "You could still give her one," Dylan suggested carefully. "Sir, there’s something I need to say—" "Then don’t," Satan cut him off. He already knew what Dylan was hinting at, and he didn’t want to hear it. "Let’s go." …… The grocery store was bustling with evening shoppers—housewives rushing to grab discounted essentials, office workers finally getting a chance to unwind after a long day. The aisles were packed, especially in the food section. Emily led the way, selecting ingredients while Jackson followed close behind, pushing the shopping cart. Every time she picked something, the cart was conveniently right beside her, making it easy for her to drop items in. "Jackson, don’t you find grocery shopping boring?" Emily asked over her shoulder. Jackson shook his head. "Not at all! Why would you think that?" "I just thought someone like you, with your wealth, would be more used to shopping at Armani rather than a supermarket," she said with a teasing smile. Jackson burst out laughing. "Wealthy people need to eat too, you know! Although, to be fair, I didn’t used to shop like this. But now, I think it’s kind of fun." Suddenly, Jackson pointed excitedly toward an aisle ahead. "Look! They’re selling Christmas trees already. Christmas is soon, right?" Emily paused, realizing the date. It was the 18th—just a week until Christmas. Another year had passed so quickly. "Let’s pick out a tree," Jackson suggested eagerly. "And some decorations too." Emily frowned. "Where would we put it? I’m staying in a hotel; it’s not exactly convenient." "We’ll put it at my place," Jackson replied without missing a beat. "I’m definitely going to be dragged home by my brother this time around, and my parents will probably scold me. So, I might as well get on their good side by buying them something nice! They don’t need anything fancy, but a Christmas tree would make them happy. Come on, help me pick one." Emily found herself being pulled into the festive, red-and-green-drenched Christmas section, which made her feel a bit dizzy with all its bright colors. Jackson held up two different trees, comparing them with great seriousness. "Which one do you think is better, Emily?" She shrugged. "You know your parents better than I do. You choose." "If this were any other year, I’d just pick one myself. But this year is different," Jackson said, giving her a cheeky grin. "What’s different?" "I have a girlfriend now!" he declared, his eyes twinkling. "You get to help me choose, and when I take it home, I’ll get to tell them all about my amazing girlfriend." As he imagined it, Jackson’s eyes lit up even more. "Actually, why don’t you just come home with me for Christmas?" Emily shook her head. "I need to spend it with my uncle." "Then bring your uncle too! My place is huge—he could sleep in ten different beds if he wanted to." "It’s not about space," Emily said gently. "Then what is it? Christmas is all about being together with family. And when we get married, your uncle will be my family too," Jackson said matter-of-factly. "Jackson, my uncle is used to living a quiet, simple life. Throwing him into your world wouldn’t make him happy. Even in the UK, he always felt a little uncomfortable when it was just you and me around. I appreciate your offer, but I just want my uncle to enjoy Christmas his own way." Jackson’s enthusiasm deflated slightly. "So that means we’ll have to spend Christmas apart?"