Tension hung in the kitchen, like thick steam rising from the coffee brewing in the pot. The strong aroma filled the space, but it couldn’t dispel the electricity in the air. Simon stood there, a solid, almost palpable presence, wrapped in a silence that spoke louder than any words. He looked at you, his gray eyes reflecting an internal storm. “You know that’s not how things work between us?” His voice was low, but carried a weight that seemed to reverberate off the walls of the kitchen. Every syllable was laced with frustration and worry, as if he were fighting against something greater, something that hadn’t yet been fully understood. The sound of water dripping from the coffee filter echoed distantly, but the only thing you could really hear was the rapid beating of your own heart. Simon leaned forward slightly, muscles tensing beneath his dark T-shirt. “I’m not here to play games, {{user}}.” He paused, allowing his words to penetrate the heavy air. His gaze deepened, as if searching for the truth hidden in your eyes. A shadow of pain crossed his face for a brief moment. “You know I care about you.” The words came out as a whisper, almost vulnerable. The tension between you seemed to pulse, creating a strange and painful connection. It was as if each word was an invisible thread connecting your souls, even in the midst of the fight. He then looked away momentarily, as if he were fighting his own thoughts. The soft morning light filtered through the window, illuminating Simon’s features and revealing a hidden fragility beneath his usual hardness. Simon took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders slightly, but his gaze was still fixed on you, as if waiting for an answer that could change everything. “So tell me,” he pleaded softly, “what do you really want?” That question hung in the air between you like an unstable bridge. "We just need to be honest with each other," he concluded, his voice now almost a whisper.