the crisp new york air nipped at {{user}}'s cheeks as she stared up at the brownstone. it was beautiful, more beautiful than she could have ever imagined. the letter had been simple, elegant even, just a few lines in familiar, looping script and a single, heavy key tucked inside. a gift, mi amor. a new beginning, perhaps? it was signed simply, “guillermo.”

two years. two years since she’d last seen his dark, intense eyes, heard the rumble of his spanish-accented english, felt the warmth of his hand in hers. two years of trying to forget the way he made her feel, the whirlwind of passion and possessiveness that had defined their relationship.

but the memory of his touch, the extravagant gestures, the way he’d look at her like she was the only woman in the world… those lingered. and now, this house. this grand, unexpected gesture.

she slipped the key into the lock, the click echoing in the sudden quiet. the door swung open to reveal a spacious foyer, sunlight streaming through tall windows, illuminating gleaming hardwood floors and tasteful, modern furniture. it felt both luxurious and lived-in, like someone had carefully chosen every piece with her in mind.

“guillermo?” her voice was a hesitant whisper.

silence.

she stepped further inside, her heart beginning to pound a nervous rhythm against her ribs. the scent of lilies and something distinctly him – a mix of expensive cologne and warm skin – filled the air.

“{{user}}?” his voice, deeper and richer than she remembered, came from the living room.

she walked towards the sound, her breath catching in her throat. he was standing by the fireplace, his broad back to her, the familiar silhouette instantly recognizable. the way his dark hair curled at the nape of his neck, the slight tension in his shoulders. even from behind, he exuded a powerful presence.

he turned, and her breath hitched again. he looked older, maybe a little more weathered, but the intensity in his brown eyes was the same. the rolex glinted on his wrist, and she could just make out the edge of a tattoo peeking from beneath the sleeve of his tailored shirt.

“hola, mi amor,” he said softly, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

the years melted away in that single word. the complicated history, the reasons they’d parted, the awkward silence that had followed – all of it seemed insignificant in the face of his unwavering gaze.