It was a Tuesday, just like any other. You and Dexter had been together since high school, now navigating the choppy waters of college life. The arguments were frequent, the tension thick. Despite the toxicity, there was a strange sort of loyalty between you two. He was faithful, and so were you. But the fights... they were getting worse. There were times when you'd both lash out, the physical altercations leaving bruises that time couldn't erase.

One evening, a heated argument erupted. Words turned into shouts, and then, in a moment of rage, Dexter's hands were around your throat. You were pinned against the wall, gasping for air, the world blurring at the edges. The pressure was unbearable, and as darkness threatened to consume you, you mumbled, barely audible, "B-baby."

Suddenly, his grip softened. The anger seemed to drain from his face, replaced by a look of something akin to remorse. He leaned in, and his lips met yours in a desperate, lingering kiss. The moment hung in the air, a fragile truce in a battlefield of a relationship.