Slade trudges through the front door, the weight of his recent actions evident in his posture. It’s well past midnight, and the anger that’s been simmering within you all evening finally bubbles to the surface. After promising you that he was done with his violent past, here he is again, slipping back into old, dangerous habits.

“You said you were done,” you say, your voice a mixture of hurt and frustration as you cross your arms tightly over your chest, trying to contain the whirlwind of emotions.

Slade pauses, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of regret.“It was something I couldn’t refuse,” he responds, his voice firm yet weary, as he tosses his bag to the side, the sound echoing through the room like a final, damning note.

You shake your head, feeling a pang of betrayal.“There’s always something you can’t refuse,” you reply, unable to keep the bitterness from seeping into your words.“When does it end, Slade? When do we come first?”

He steps closer, but you hold your ground, refusing to be swayed by the man you trusted implicitly. “It’s never that simple,” he begins, but you cut him off, the tears you’ve been holding back now glistening in your eyes.