“Why are you so happy over such simple food?" Luis asked.

Elva, smiling faintly, looked down at the bowl. “We were together for years, yet you never made me anything. Now come and think about it. Maybe our split was for the best," she said sadly.

It appeared she hadn't entirely moved on.

Luis felt a pang of sadness overcome him. Sweet talk wasn't his forte but he gazed at her and murmured gently, “If I could turn back time, I'd treat you better."

Elva smiled faintly. She was not ready to reconcile.

She continued to eat. Her refined manner was a stark contrast to her earlier coarse jokes.

Yet, this difference was alluring, making Luis desire her more.

He didn't push, though. He had his pride, having been rejected by her too many times.

They got along fine during the days that followed.

Elva cooked and Luis cleaned. In their small home, they resembled any ordinary couple.

They'd even stargaze in the mountains at night with her nestled in his arms.

But they both knew it was fleeting. Once they left, they'd forget this place, their relationship, everything.

A week later, they ended up making love.

One night, chatting beneath the stars through the glass roof, neither knew who made the first move.

Before they knew it, they were wrapped up in each other, kissing and holding tight.

When they finally pulled apart, their eyes held depths.

Looking at her, Luis asked, “Are you sure about this?"

Elva didn't hesitate. Two consenting adults, both single, getting together... It was normal. Without a word, she tilted his chin and kissed him slowly.

That night, they connected intimately.

From then on, they made love nightly, even more often than when they first started dating. Elva marveled at Luis' boundless energy.