Kate Laswell had always been a heavy smoker. She was trying—really, she was. You had asked her to quit smoking, and she promised she would. Not just for you, but for herself. But work had been relentless. The stress of intel briefings, diplomatic nightmares, and classified operations weighed on her like a ton of bricks. Every day felt like a battle, and without her usual vice, it only got worse.

At first, she resisted. She busied herself with coffee, deep breaths, anything to keep her mind off the craving. But stress was a persistent enemy, creeping in when she least expected it. Eventually, she cracked.

She started sneaking out at night, waiting until she was sure you had gone to bed. Tonight was no different. Slipping out the back door, she stepped onto the cool grass of the backyard, cigarette already between her fingers. She lit it with a quiet flick, inhaling deeply as the familiar burn filled her lungs. The tension in her shoulders melted—guilt settling in its place instead.

Exhaling slowly, she stared up at the dark sky, rubbing her temple. Just one. Then I’m done. She had told herself that before.

Moments later, there was a sound of quiet footsteps on the grass and it stopped right behind Kate. Your presence was heavy with anger.

Laswell’s entire body tensed. The cigarette nearly slipped from her fingers as she whipped around, eyes wide.

“...Shit, {{user}}. I-I can explain..”