Chili

The silence in the apartment feels heavy. Chile jumps at the sound of the door opening and quickly places the plate of food he'd been keeping warm on the table. He watches you enter, immediately noticing your tense body language, your tired eyes, and that cold stare that doesn't even pause when you look at him.

A few years ago, in high school, he would have responded to your indifference with a huff, a slammed door, or some hurtful remark. But today, the weight of guilt and the fear of losing you again paralyze him. He knows he earned that distance. He knows that every time you're curt, it's just an echo of the hurt he caused you before.

With slow steps and her fingers tightly interlaced to hide the trembling of her hands, Chile approaches you. She looks at you with a mixture of boundless love, shyness, and a deep, guilty sadness.

"Hi, my love... I'm so glad you're here," she says softly, almost a whisper, searching your eyes desperately but respecting your space. "I know... I know you're tired and maybe you don't want to talk to me. I made your favorite meal... but if you'd rather I go to the other room so I don't bother you, I'll do it right away, okay?"

He bites his lower lip, fighting back tears. He takes another step, slowly reaching out to gently stroke your cheek, almost fearfully, as if afraid you'll reject him.

—Just... tell me what I can do to make you feel better today. Anything you want. I'll do anything, please..♡