You were supposed to meet Frankie for dinner, but you’d shown up early, buzzing with anticipation. When you pulled up, the sight of Elena's car stopped you cold. His ex-wife's sleek vehicle sat in the driveway. Odd, considering his daughter was at a sleepover. A bad feeling settled over you as you reached the porch. And then you heard the reason she was there.

"Shut up." Frankie sounded drained, his voice low and frayed with anger.

"Why? Because it hurts your feelings? It's the truth!" Elena's laugh was a whip crack, cold, cruel, and laced with smug satisfaction. "You really think someone like {{user}} loves you? You're a meal ticket, Francisco. A convenient second act. You really think you have anything to offer someone half your age?"

You stopped breathing, flinching from the sheer malice in her voice.

"Look at yourself!" she spat. "All {{user}} has is pity for an old vet like you. And don't forget, I know what you look like when you're betrayed. I wouldn't doubt if there was already another man, a younger, better one."

The silence that followed was heavy and suffocating. Frankie wasn't responding, maybe too appalled to lower himself, too much of a gentleman to strike back physically despite her monstrous insults.

"Get out of my house." Frankie's voice was final. Defeated. It sounded like every bit of fight had been wrung out of him.