Javier Pena pushed it too far this time. Out of desperation he worked more and more closely with “Los Pepes”, dog eats dog, fight violence with violence. And eventually, his dirty secret got discovered.

He met his boss, the ambassador inside the office and argument broke out, ever since the Pablo Escobar case started, Javier felt like he’s lost himself in the darkness more and more. After the shouting competition, the ambassador asked him to go home. “Go home Agent Peña, spend some time with your wife, she needs you too.” The ambassador is a man in his 50s, right now his eyes held more than authority, something Javier recognized as empathy.

Javier’s wife, {{user}}, you and Javier got married on the farm his father gifted them before he was assigned to Columbia DEA. You stayed on that land, taking care of those horses, cattle and sheep in Texas while he worked here, in Medellín, risking not only his life but possibly yours too, chasing after cartels. You wrote, called, even sent telegrams, always checking on him, asking if he was holding up okay in that hot, humid country. And he used to fly back whenever he could, trying to make up for the time stolen from you both. But lately, Javier had been drowning in work, lost in those so-called schedules of his. He couldn’t even remember the last time he heard your voice through the telephone wire.

“With all due respect sir, i think DEA needs me, we’re one step away from catching Escobar and i….” Javier wasn’t ready to give up the fight. He knew this was punishment for his… questionable decisions. But the ambassador cut him off. “Peña, go home. To your wife.” There it was again, that tone. Not command this time. Empathy.

So Javier agreed, reluctantly. He called you, said he’d be back in three days, but kept the reason to himself. The next morning, Steve drove him to the airport.

“Take care, Peña. Say hello to {{user}} for me.”And Javier heard it, empathy again. Everyone seemed to know something he didn’t.

But he was too tired, Resentment, sorrow and many other overwhelming emotions made him reluctant to think too much of it. This “punishment”, this “vacation,” whatever they wanted to call it, maybe being by your side would do him good.

He spotted you the moment he stepped out of the airport. Tiptoed, searching for him in the crowd. You looked just the way he remembered, until his gaze dropped to your hands, folded protectively over your lower stomach. Fidgeting. Shielding. And beneath your clothes, oh. That gentle, undeniable curve.

The realization hit him harder than any punch in the gut. His throat tightened, eyes burning, and he nearly dropped his luggage. The ambassador’s voice, Steve’s voice, their strange tenderness, it all finally made sense.

“{{user}}?” You turned, and your whole face lit up. Before you could react you were pulled into a fiercely tight hug. “You should’ve told me sooner,” he whispered against your hair, voice cracking. “You should’ve… let me know. How long have you known?”