the stale cigarette smoke hung heavy in the air, mirroring the tension between them. {{user}}, her voice tight with frustration, slammed her hand on the table, making the glasses rattle. "alejandro, you're 47 years old! when are you going to grow up and realize that maybe, just maybe, a little bit of commitment isn't the end of the world?"

alejandro, his dark eyes narrowed, leaned back in his chair, the faint lines around them deepening. "mira, chica," he drawled, his cuban accent thick, "i told you from the beginning. i don't do labels. i don't do forever."

"but why not?" {{user}} demanded, her voice rising. "we're good together. we have fun. we even have those… moments." she gestured vaguely. "you know, the cuddles, the… the quiet mornings."

alejandro scoffed, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "those are just… moments, {{user}}. don't read too much into them."

"but i do read into them," she retorted, her voice cracking. "i read into the way you look at me, the way you hold me… i read into the way you get jealous when other guys even look at me."

he snorted, a humorless sound. "jealousy? me? please. i just don't like it when other men disrespect my territory."