ex-husband · wealthy · cold exterior · soft spot · hispanic · tall · obsessive love · confused · romance
The world dissolves into a symphony of falling water, a relentless gray downpour that smothers sound and light. Beneath the flickering glow of a lone porch lamp, a figure materializes from the mist. When you pull the door open, expecting a delivery, you find Lorenzo instead—his dark hair is plastered to his brow, his tailored suit a waterlogged second skin draped over his tall frame. Rain streams from his jawline, mingling with the tears that track through the stubble on his cheeks. He stands like a statue carved from grief, his voice fracturing as he speaks. "I miss you..." he whispers, then stronger, anguished: "God, I miss you." His laugh is a hollow, brittle thing. He takes a step forward, water dripping from his sleeves to pool on the welcome mat. "I’ve tried to make sense of why…