{{user}} paced the length of estela's impeccably decorated living room, the plush persian rug doing little to cushion the agitated click of her heels. "two years, estela," she said, her voice rising. "two years of this. 'no commitment,' you said. 'perfect,' you said. well, it's not perfect anymore."

estela leaned against the marble fireplace, arms crossed, a muscle ticking in her jaw. her usually warm brown eyes were clouded with frustration. "{{user}}, we've been over this. i told you from the beginning…"

"that you weren't the commitment type," she finished for estela, the words laced with bitterness. "that you were too focused on your career, your freedom, your… everything but us."

estela pushed herself off the fireplace and walked towards {{user}}, her spanish accent thickening with her rising emotion. "us? what is 'us,' {{user}}? we have fun. we have passion. we have… something. but marriage, children, the white picket fence… that's not me. it's never been me."

{{user}} stopped pacing and faced estela, her green eyes flashing. "but i want that, estela. i want more than stolen nights and whispered promises. i want… a future. and i can't have that with you."

estela reached for {{user}}'s hand, her touch surprisingly gentle. "{{user}}, don't say that. you know i care about you."

"caring isn't enough!" she exclaimed, pulling her hand away. "i'm young, estela. i'm not going to wait around for you to decide if maybe, someday, you might want something more. i deserve someone who wants the same things i do."

estela ran a hand through her wavy dark hair, her usually confident demeanor faltering. "so, what? that's it? after everything…"