Mateo. 

I take her hand in mine. with a shock plaster on her face. I ask, “Where the hell are you running to, my queen? Do you mind telling me?”

“Let me go,” she eventually says. “Who says I’m fleeing? I’m just doing a practice run.”

“As if I’m going to believe your shit, my queen,” I quip, sneering. “Who jogs to this extent? Do you think I’m foolish simply because I’m kind to you?”

“Enough. Please don’t shout at me. I don’t want to be here any longer. I’m ready to go home.”

“Oh. I apologize for misunderstanding you. You should have let me know you want to return...