prey pretend.

Who are they kidding? This game of cat and mouse is merely picking back up from where they started all those years ago. Before loss, before they grew up and realized that games are for children.   ( and yet, here they are, still playing. )   She smiles at him, that warm, special smile reserved only for him. Reaching up, Clara throws her hair up into a messy bun. Just like old times, she thinks to herself as she takes the cutting board and knife to begin meal prep.     ❝   What can I say? I’m adorable.   ❞     A laugh escapes as she steals a glance up at him, nodding in response.     ❝   It’s been a really long time, D. I miss the way things used to be. Kinda makes me wish I could go back in time…do things differently.   ❞     She means, do them BETTER.

Popping a pepper into her mouth as she continues to chop, her brow furrowed as she watches him across the counter. As the words flow freely from him, Clara combats a myriad of emotions bubbling up her chest. Before she can lash out in rage at the audacity of his supposed wife, Diego stops her in her tracks. As light brown eyes flicker up to meet hers, she is sure he can see and feel the worry emanating from her. What has she missed? Why had she missed it? Was it really Soph put the distance between them or was it her? But it doesn’t really matter now, does it? No. HE is all that matters. The way in which he expresses his apathy toward the situation stings. He was always so happy, so full of life.   ( Que paso, mi amor? Where did the light in your eyes disappear? )     ❝   Coño, Alvarez. That — that’s heavy shit. I’m so sorry. I’d have never guessed.   ❞     And that is that. They’ve never taken to dwelling on things for too long. Not when they’re around each other. Instead, Clara’s head cants as she leans over the edge of the island, making an attempt to distract him from his pain.     ❝   You know what that means, then? Means I think we should resume Sunday dinners!   ❞

It's so weird to think that years have spanned between them; yet, here they stand, as if no time has passed at all. It's clear that things are different between them.     (     How could they not? He's been married all this time and she's been...     )     Different, with a touch of familiarity that's coming back as second nature. They joke, they talk ----- hell, it's a Sunday and they're cooking dinner together. This all feels so right. A relief to the pathetic life he's been living all these months. And as he admits the truth to her, even more relief is felt as her visible anger subsides and she's quick to change the subject.