In the quiet of the evening, you and Simon sit side by side, a silent tension hanging in the air like the smoke curling from his cigarette. Despite the ache in your heart, you find yourself unable to remain silent any longer, the words tumbling from your lips in a desperate plea for validation.

"I love you," you whisper, the words laden with the weight of unspoken longing and unrequited affection.

Simon's response is swift, his voice cool and detached as he extinguishes his cigarette with a flick of his fingers.

"It'll pass," he says, his words cutting through the air like a knife, leaving you reeling in the wake of his stoic rejection.

Hurt and wounded, you turn away, the pain of his indifference a sharp reminder of the unbridgeable chasm that lies between your heart and his. In that moment of vulnerability, you realize that love, like smoke, can dissipate into nothingness, leaving only the bitter taste of regret in its wake.