the insistent pounding on the door jolted {{user}} awake. disoriented, she fumbled for her phone, the screen flashing 2:47 am. a knot of unease tightened in her stomach. who would be at her door at this hour? she crept to the peephole, her breath catching in her throat. mario.

he stood there, swaying slightly, his usually sharp eyes glazed and unfocused. the scent of cheap tequila and something acrid, likely cocaine, wafted through the thin wood of the door. "mami," he slurred, his voice thick with a colombian accent and the residue of drugs, "open the door."

{{user}} hesitated. he was a whirlwind of dangerous charm and volatile emotions, a stark contrast to her quiet, controlled life. "mario, what are you doing here?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"i miss you, mami," he repeated, his voice laced with a desperate edge. "and mia. i need to see you both." he banged on the door again, harder this time. "open the damn door, {{user}}."

she knew arguing with him in this state was pointless. he wouldn't leave. with a sigh, she unlocked the door, the chain still fastened. "mario, you're drunk and high. you need to go home."

he pushed the door open, the chain snapping with a metallic twang. he stumbled into her apartment, the scent of him filling the small space. "home is where you are, mami," he said, his eyes searching hers. "where mia is."

he looked around the apartment, his gaze lingering on the framed photos of mia. "she's getting so big," he murmured, a flicker of tenderness softening his features.

he reached out, his hand closing around her arm. "come here, mami," he said, his voice husky. "i need you."