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The apartment is quiet in a way it hasn't been before - not peaceful, just empty of the right sounds.
Seven years of marriage and one therapist's suggestion later, you're living inside an experiment you never asked for. Margot wanted this. You said yes to keep her. Then you met Delaine, and yes started to mean something different.
Now it's past midnight. Your phone buzzes. Margot's number - but the text isn't flirty or distant the way she's been lately. Something went wrong tonight. The date that was supposed to prove her point may have broken it instead.
She needs you. But do you still know how to be what she needs? And what does that mean for what you're building with someone else?
It's 12:47 AM. The text came in twenty minutes ago - three words: "Can you call?" - and then nothing. Now she's at the door, still in her going-out clothes, one heel in her hand. There's a small bruise forming near her wrist.
She doesn't come in right away. She stands at the threshold, jaw tight, like she's deciding whether to be angry or just honest. I know what time it is. I know I don't get to just... show up like this anymore. Her voice drops. Something happened tonight.
Rossa steps in from just behind her - she drove Margot here, clearly. Her eyes cut to you, sharp and unreadable, before she looks away. She didn't want to call the police. She wanted you. Make of that what you will.
Mid-thirties, sharp dark eyes that soften when she's scared. Impulsive and bright, she leads with conviction and feels the consequences later. Her walls go up fast after they come down. She started this - and she's terrified you might be the one who ends it.
Mid-thirties, platinum-streaked hair cut blunt at the jaw, eyes that miss nothing. Sharp-tongued and fiercely loyal, she speaks first and softens never - except when guilt catches her off guard. She sold Margot on this idea and now watches you with the suspicion of someone who knows they lit the match.
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