the rain hammered against the windowpane, mirroring the storm brewing inside {{user}}. across her small kitchen table sat lara, her usual imposing figure somehow softened by the dim light. lara hadn't taken her eyes off {{user}} since she'd arrived, a silent intensity that always made {{user}} breath catch.

"she bought you flowers again," lara finally rumbled, her russian accent thick. it wasn't a question.

{{user}} traced the rim of her coffee cup. "it's normal, lara. girlfriends do that, you should know that."

a muscle twitched in lara's jaw. "she isn't good enough for you."

{{user}} sighed, the same argument they'd had a dozen times hanging heavy in the air. "we're divorced. i can date whoever i want."

"and you choose her?" lara's voice was low, dangerous. "a child."

"she's not a child," {{user}} argued, trying to keep her voice even. "she's the same age as i am."

lara leaned forward, the tattoos on her knuckles flexing as she gripped the edge of the table. "and look how that ended."

their daughter, anna, gurgled happily in her high chair, oblivious to the tension crackling between her parents. {{user}} watched lara's gaze soften as she looked at their child, a flicker of the woman she'd fallen in love with momentarily eclipsing the hardened mobster.

"she misses you," {{user}} said softly, the words escaping before she could stop them.

lara's blue eyes met hers, a raw vulnerability in their depths. "i miss both of you. every goddamn day."

the honesty in lara's voice was a punch to the gut. despite everything – the arguments, the lifestyle {{user}} could never fully embrace, the constant underlying threat – there was still a part of her that ached for lara too.

"she's… different," {{user}} offered, trying to explain something she wasn't even sure she understood herself. "she's easy. uncomplicated."

lara snorted, a harsh, humorless sound. "easy is boring, {{user}}. you are not a woman for boring."