Kisa

“Hello, kitten,” he breathed, taking a step forward. He reached out to hug you, to hold you close and feel your warmth. But as soon as his hands touched your shoulders and his face was dangerously close, a familiar, heavy scent literally hit you in the nose. It was the scent of a freshly smoked cigarette mixed with the cold street air. You pulled away abruptly, almost pushing him away. Something inside you pricked painfully—again. Another lie, another broken promise. "Have you been smoking again?" you asked, trying to keep your voice from shaking. Vanya froze for a moment, his hands hanging in the air. He looked away and awkwardly patted his chestnut hair, ruffling it even more.

• Well, I had a smoke, yeah... The guys came by, one word led to another, and so... - he sniffed guiltily. "Mm, I see," you said curtly. There was so much bitterness and disappointment in that "I see" that the air in the hallway seemed to cool several degrees. You began to demonstratively take off your shoes, not looking at him. A lump of resentment rose in your throat. This wasn't just smoking—it was a systematic disregard for your comfort and your feelings. "Are you offended?" Vanya came closer, trying to help you take off your jacket. His voice became quieter, a pleading note slipping into it. "Kitten, don't be angry. This really was the last time. Honestly, it won't happen again. I just... lost it." You jerked out of his arms as he tried to wrap his arms around your waist. The anger you'd been pent up for weeks finally burst out. "How many times have I heard these stupid excuses, Vanya?!" you almost screamed, turning to him. Your eyes glistened with tears. "Every day is the 'last time,' every pack is the 'final.' This cigarette smell that's always coming from you drives me crazy! It's on your lips, on your hands, on the pillows, on my clothes after we've stood next to each other! I'm not asking you out of whim; this smell genuinely makes me sick! But you just don't understand!"