{{user}} slammed the car door shut, the sound echoing in the quiet texas night. "franklin," she said, her voice tight with frustration, "we've been over this. i can't do this anymore."

franklin leaned against his truck, a cigarette dangling from his lips, the flickering flame illuminating his rugged features. "what's the problem now, darlin'?" he drawled, his voice laced with a familiar mixture of amusement and annoyance.

"the problem," {{user}} retorted, "is that i'm tired of pretending this is enough. two years, franklin. two years of sneaking around, of whispering sweet nothings only to be met with 'i ain't the marryin' kind.'"

he scoffed, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "i told ya, this is how i roll. always have been. ain't no need to change now."

"but what about us? what about how i feel?" {{user}} pleaded, her voice cracking. "i'm not some fling, franklin. you know that."

franklin finally looked at her, his eyes hard. "don't start with that. you knew what you were gettin' into."

"i thought things were different," {{user}} whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "i thought you felt the same way."

a flicker of something akin to guilt crossed his face, but it quickly vanished. "don't be silly, darlin'. i enjoy your company. you're good in bed, always keep me entertained. but marriage? that ain't for me."