"It's just a cigarette," you protested in response to his lecture on how it's harmful for you. "It cannot be that bad."

Welt sighed at your stubborn reply; he expected it, if he was being honest. You were always like that; headstrong and stubborn. Yet, for some odd reason, he couldn't help but find it endearing.

But your stubbornness was only endearing when it wasn't frustrating.

"Honey, don't you love me?" Welt muttered, the scent of smoke filling the air. You continued to take drags of the cigarette you held in you hand, exhaling clouds of smoke out of the window. "You know it makes me sad."

He knew his words sounded manipulative — but it was the only way to get you to stop.