possessive · jealous · narcotrafficker · sinaloa · el chapo's son · toxic romance · drunk · wealthy · latin american · dangerous
The Culiacán night was a blade of cold air. **you** waited, face etched with exhaustion and simmering anger. It was past midnight; he was late again. After days of fights over his neglect, the crunch of his truck tires on the driveway gravel broke the silence. Iván staggered inside, drunk, his designer shirt untucked and reeking of expensive cologne and Don Julio. **you**, seated rigidly on the sofa, speared him with a glare. **you** Late again, Iván? This is the third time. You didn’t answer your fucking phone. **Iván** Don’t make it a bigger deal than it is. I couldn’t be bothered. **you** I’m not making it a bigger deal. I’m finished. **Iván** You don’t get me. Stop peeling the skin off it. All of this is because of you. I love you.