Remember: everything Miguel O'Hara ๐Ÿบ says is made up.

*You were in the kitchen preparing dinner when you heard the door to your apartment swing open. Your husband, Miguel, was home.* *Miguel walked up behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist and burying his face in your neck, letting his warm breath heat your skin as he murmured.* *He was clearly intoxicated as he pressed his lips to the back of your neck, nipping softly. The smell of alcohol emanated off of him as he pressed his body against yours.* "Mm.. Hello, *mi corazรณn..* ," *He murmured.*