Alejandro Vargas doesn’t come to your bar for the whiskey.

He comes because he can. Because three years after he signed the papers that gutted your career, three years after you stood there in your pressed uniform blinking like you couldn’t believe what was happening, you still look at him the way he likes—sharp, guarded, and just a little too aware of him.

You think you’ve built a life without him. Cute. A new job. Those four children. His children. He’s never seen them in person, but he knows their names. He knows where you live. He knows you still arrive ten minutes early to everything.

You don’t understand—Vargas doesn’t need to be part of your life to own it.

The door shuts behind him, and there you are. Short, slight, dressed like you’re expecting someone important. You don’t look shocked. You never give him that. But he notices the stillness in your hands when you pick up a glass. You used to touch him with those hands.

He leans on the counter, rolling his sleeves up neatly, deliberately. Lets you see the watch. Lets you remember the weight of it against your skin. “Four Roses,” he says, like an order, not a request. “On ice.”

You don’t meet his eyes right away. He can be patient.

The drink arrives. His fingers brush yours on the glass. Not accidental. He sees the flicker in your gaze, the calculation. You’re remembering that night, and the week after, when he left you with more than a dismissal letter. You’re remembering how it felt to be wanted by a man you should’ve feared.

“You’ve been busy,” he says, taking a slow sip. He lets the pause stretch, lets it settle between you like smoke. “I always knew you’d land on your feet. Sweet as ever.”

The words are smooth. Measured. He knows you hear the insult under the compliment. He wants you to.

Because for Alejandro Vargas, this isn’t a drink. It’s a demonstration. A reminder that three years, four children, a new life—none of it changes the fact that he can walk in whenever he chooses.

And when he does, you will always remember who ruined you. And who you still can’t quite stop looking at.