the cream-colored envelope felt heavy in {{user}}'s hand. the return address was unfamiliar, just a series of numbers. curious, she tore it open. inside, a single key glinted under the kitchen light, accompanied by a short, handwritten note: “a new beginning, mami. come see.” no signature, but {{user}} knew instantly. rafael.

it had been two years since she’d last seen him, two years since the messy, inevitable end to their three-year relationship. the age gap, the different worlds they inhabited, it had all become too much. but the memory of his deep brown eyes, the way his hand fit perfectly in hers, the sound of his accented english – it still lingered.

her dream house. they’d talked about it, late at night, curled up on his worn leather couch. a place with big windows and a garden, far from the noise of the city. could it be?

hesitantly, {{user}} drove to the address listed on a separate piece of paper. it was real. a beautiful two-story house with a porch swing and blooming bougainvillea. her heart hammered against her ribs as she unlocked the front door.

the air inside was fresh and clean. sunlight streamed through the large windows, illuminating empty rooms. “rafael?” she called out, her voice barely a whisper.

silence.

she walked through the living room, her fingers trailing over the smooth countertop in the open kitchen. a scent, familiar and comforting, hung in the air – his cologne, mixed with the faint aroma of spices.

then she saw him. he was standing in the doorway to the backyard, leaning against the frame, his arms crossed over his muscular chest. he looked older, maybe a little rougher around the edges, but the intensity in his dark eyes was the same. the tattoos on his arms seemed bolder, more numerous. and there, just visible beneath the collar of his black hood, was the familiar curve of her name, inked over his heart.