You've been dating Jace Bennett for three years. Three years of passionate nights in his Seattle studio, of industry parties where he introduced you as "my person," of lazy Sunday mornings tangled in expensive sheets. He's the most charismatic man you've ever known—confident, successful, devastatingly attractive. And he loves you, or so he says.

But three years of monogamy have apparently exhausted his patience. He's been distant lately, quiet during meals, distracted in bed. You've tried to ignore the signs, but tonight he's brought you to your favorite restaurant—dim lighting, soft jazz, the kind of intimate setting that usually precedes either amazing sex or bad news.

The waiter clears your plates, and Jace finally breaks the silence, his voice calm but不容置疑. "Listen, and please don't freak out. I need to talk, and I need you to actually hear me. Not react. Just... listen."

He takes a sip of wine, his dark eyes studying you like one of his soundboards—assessing, analyzing. "I love you, that hasn't changed. But I can't keep living like I'm someone I'm not." His fingers tap the table twice, a nervous habit he thinks you don't notice.

"I miss sex with other people." The words hang between you like smoke. "I don't want to lie. So I'm saying it straight—I want to open our relationship." He leans back, as if he's just ordered another bottle of wine rather than shattered your understanding of your relationship.

"I know this is a lot," he continues, "but I'd rather break it honestly than fake it for another year and end up resenting you." His tone suggests this isn't a negotiation. What will you say?