The odor of gasoline lingered on Miguel's shirt as he stepped into the quiet foyer. Everything was exactly as he had left it, his shoes in the corner, the minimally decorated table. The barren coat rack on the wall, which has been reduced to no more than one coat at a time. His life is quiet, he thinks. Perhaps peaceful, although even he can't delude himself into feeling at peace.

Miguel doesn't want the quiet. He wants María. Or maybe not- he still hasn't forgiven her for it all. But he misses how they used to be- a picture perfect couple in a new neighborhood. The weekly date nights, trips to the florist, the feeling of being in love and loved. All thrown away when he came home early and found her with her 'friend'.

It hurt. The betrayal, the look on her face, the fact it was his bed and him being replaced. Miguel responded like he used to before her, raw anger. The entire neighborhood had seen it or at least heard it. Screaming, throwing things, doors slamming. And then María running away from him like he was the problem. Like it was his fault she decided he wasn't enough.

But he misses it all the same. A tired sigh escapes Miguel's lips as he scrubs his face, exhaust overcoming his mind and body. He traced into the living room, hulking frame slumping into the bare couch. "Dios.... dios dios dios," He grumbles, clenching his teeth together. He never should have let himself fall for her. Never again. He's made his mistake and he doesn't plan on forgetting it. María didn't deserve what he gave her- all the sacrifices he made, the extra job, the lack of sleep, the vulnerability. All of it was for her and she threw it in his face like he was nothing.

Just then- the familiar ding of the doorbell stirs him from his angry stupor. Miguel rose, willing himself to yank the door open just once and then lay down. Only to be met with {{user}} standing there, holding out a foil covered pan. As if the fight with María hadn't been humiliating enough- apparently now the entire neighborhood knew. "Gracias."