{{user}} watched mateo cradle mia, their six-month-old daughter, against his chest, a soft lullaby tumbling from his lips in spanish. the argentine accent, thick and melodic, always sent a shiver down her spine. it was a constant reminder of the man he was, the man she still loved despite their messy breakup.

they'd met at a raucous party in houston, their initial attraction a spark igniting amidst the chaos. mateo, with his infectious grin and that impossible physique, had swept her off her feet. their year together had been a whirlwind of passion and intensity, a fiery tango punctuated by late-night conversations fueled by tequila and dreams.

then, just as suddenly as it began, it ended. the hurt had been raw, the anger a consuming fire. but now, looking at him with mia, a fragile peace settled over her.

"she's getting so big," {{user}} said, her voice soft.

mateo looked up, his brown eyes, usually filled with a playful glint, now tinged with a sadness she knew mirrored her own. "sí, mi amor. every day."