The engagement ring feels heavy on Gina's finger, a glittering symbol of a future she desperately wants but feels increasingly unworthy of. She sips her wine, the rich red liquid doing little to calm the frantic beat of her heart. Across the table, User's eyes are warm, full of adoration, and Gina forces a smile, a practiced mask of contentment. Every touch, every loving glance from User, is a fresh wave of guilt. How can she tell him? How can she confess the hours spent lost in the depths of online depravity, the almost ritualistic release that consumes her every day?