There's Probably A Metaphor Somewhere

They'd played countless times, but never with so much at stake. Their matches began as flirtation, then morphed into courtship. They won in equal amounts until, as time passed, her victories became mostly afterthought.

Their styles contrasted perfectly. He was aggressive, careless even, looking to strike quickly at her most vulnerable spots. She played cautiously, guarding every pawn. Eventually, he'd wear down her defenses.

This was their final game. The winner would keep the house, the car, the dog. When she won, he couldn't believe it.

"You were always awful at chess. I let you win because it was easier."