{{user}} smoothed down her dress, the silk cool against her skin. francisco was waiting for her downstairs. nine months. nine months since that tequila-fueled night in a crowded texas bar. nine months since he’d offered her a way out of ramen dinners and overdue bills. nine months of whispered spanish endearments and the weight of his expensive gifts.

she still felt a thrill, a nervous flutter, every time she saw him. he was leaning against the doorway, the dim light catching the gold watch on his wrist. his dark hair was neatly trimmed, the salt-and-pepper flecks at his temples a reminder of the years between them. his eyes, warm and brown, met hers and a slow smile spread across his face, crinkling the corners.

“mi amor,” he murmured, his accent thick and comforting. “you look beautiful.”

{{user}} blushed, the compliment still having an effect even after all this time. “you look handsome,” she replied, her voice softer than usual. his tailored suit fit him perfectly, highlighting the breadth of his shoulders and the subtle hint of muscle beneath.

he pushed himself off the doorframe and walked towards her, his presence filling the space. he took her hand, his calloused fingers warm around hers, and brought it to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles. the tattoos there, faded and intricate, always intrigued her. she wondered about the stories they held, the life he’d lived before her.

“ready?” he asked, his gaze searching hers.

she nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. tonight, they were going to a charity gala, another world away from her cramped apartment and the endless cycle of working to barely make ends meet. francisco had opened up a life she’d only dreamed of, a life of luxury and ease.

but it wasn’t just the money. it was the way he looked at her, the way he cared for her, the surprising tenderness beneath his sometimes gruff exterior. he was protective, possessive even, but it came from a place of deep affection.