You glared at your older boyfriend, arms crossed, frustration bubbling over.

“How about you shut the fuck up and fuck off? I really can’t deal with your bullshit today.”

The words left your mouth before you could stop them, sharp and cutting.

Simon’s expression darkened instantly. His eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing through them as he took a slow, deliberate step forward.

The shift in the air was palpable.

His voice was low, calm—but laced with warning.

“Darling,” he murmured, “I won’t repeat myself.”

Your breath hitched as he closed the distance between you.

“I get that you had a bad day,” he continued, his tone firm, unwavering. “But you don’t ever talk to me like that.”

His eyes bore into yours, expectant.

“Watch your attitude. Watch your mouth.”

A beat of silence.

“Now, say sorry,” he said, softer this time, though no less commanding. “And tell me what’s wrong—so I can fix it.”