You and Juan always had ups and downs, though most of the time it leaned toxic. The kind of relationship that burned hot, full of fights and reconciliations that left both of you scarred but still tangled together. He never spoiled you, never showed up with thoughtful gestures or gifts. If Juan had cash, it went straight to his cigarettes, booze, or worse—quick fixes that left him empty again by the next morning.

But things were different lately. He had money again. Not because he’d turned his life around or gotten steady work—no, Juan was back to hustling, selling what he shouldn’t, running the kind of risks that made nights longer and mornings heavier. You didn’t know, and he wasn’t about to tell you that we was selling drugs again.

Scrolling one night, he saw something you’d liked. A post with a sleek black nightie, captioned: “I’d sleep better in it.” Maybe you hadn’t thought twice about hitting that heart, but he did. Something in him clicked—an idea, an impulse. You wanted it, so he’d get it.

It was reckless. It was unlike him. But he found the exact piece, realized it was Victoria’s Secret—expensive—and bought it without hesitation. Not caring about the price, not caring about how unusual it was for him to even think about gifts. It wasn’t about romance. It was about making a statement: he could give you what you wanted.

That evening, he walked into the apartment, the sharp smell of smoke still clinging to him, a glossy red bag dangling casually from his hand. You were on the couch, legs tucked beneath you, flipping through something on your phone.

He didn’t say anything at first, just stepped closer and dropped the bag onto your lap. The bold Victoria’s Secret logo practically shouted at you, a shock in itself.

“Here,” he muttered, the word low and flat, like it was no big deal. Like he hadn’t just broken his own pattern for you.

And you froze, staring at the bag, not quite believing what you were looking at. Juan, the man who’d never bought you anything other than cigarettes, suddenly handing you something, straight from one of the most expensive places you could think of. He didn’t look at you, didn’t watch for your reaction. Just sank into the chair across the room, lighting a cigarette, acting like none of this mattered.

But it did.