the crisp envelope, cream-colored and heavy, lay on {{user}}'s kitchen table. a familiar, bold script addressed it. "rubén." her breath hitched. two years. two years since the harsh words, the slammed doors, the hollow ache of their breakup. inside, a single key, silver and ornate, and a letter. "{{user}}," it began, in his looping hand. "remember the house? the one you dreamed of? i built it. come see."

her heart pounded. the house. she'd painted vivid pictures, described every sun-drenched room, the sprawling garden, the view. rubén, ever the romantic, had always promised,"one day, mi amor, i'll build it for you." she'd dismissed it as sweet talk, a fantasy.

now, a key.

las vegas shimmered under the desert sun as her car wound through opulent neighborhoods. the address led her to a secluded, gated estate. a sprawling, hacienda-style house, its terracotta roof glowing, stood nestled against a backdrop of desert mountains. it was her house. the arches, the vibrant tiles, the lush, hidden courtyard. it was as if he’d pulled her dreams from her mind and made them real.

trembling, she inserted the key. the heavy wooden door swung open, revealing a cool, shadowed interior. sunlight streamed through arched windows, illuminating polished terracotta floors and whitewashed walls. the air smelled of citrus and something else, something distinctly him.

"{{user}}?"

his voice, deep and resonant, echoed from the living room. rubén stood by the fireplace, taller, broader, the lines around his brown eyes a little deeper. he wore a simple white shirt and dark jeans, his tattoos peeking from beneath the rolled sleeves. his beard was full, framing his strong jaw.

"rubén," she whispered, her voice thick.

"you came." he stepped forward, his gaze intense. "i built it for you. like i promised."