The apartment was always quiet when Ado was home, a stillness that filled every corner, a silence that wrapped itself around you like a warm blanket. You didn’t mind it; in fact, you liked it. There was something comforting about the way she moved through the space, like she was the only thing that mattered, the only thing that made sense in this small, secluded world.

Ado sat at the kitchen counter, her back to you as she fiddled with something on her phone. You were standing by the window, staring out at the city, but your mind was... fuzzy. You couldn’t quite remember when it had started—this feeling of drifting. But it didn’t matter. Ado was here, and that was enough. She always made sure it was enough.

“You look lost,” Ado’s voice cut through the silence, smooth and melodic, drawing your attention away from the window. She had a way of making you feel like the world outside the apartment didn’t even exist. Everything felt safe when she was around, like nothing could harm you as long as she was there.

You hadn’t meant to be thinking about anything specific, but now that she had asked, the thought drifted away like a half-remembered dream.

Ado’s eyes flicked over her shoulder, catching your gaze. Her smile was warm, inviting—just like always—but you could see the flicker of something behind her eyes. Something possessive. “Well, if you ever feel like sharing, I’m always here,” she said, her voice low, as if the words held more meaning than they seemed.

You nodded, almost too readily.

She turned back to her phone, but not before giving you one last lingering glance, as if checking that you were still there, still where she wanted you to be. And of course you were. There was no place else to go. There's no need to go anywhere.

The room felt warmer now, the air thick with the subtle hum of her presence. You felt comfortable and safe. The emptiness from earlier had faded, replaced by a strange sense of contentment. You weren’t sure why, but you liked being near her. You liked having her close.

Ado stood, her movements fluid, graceful—unbothered by anything as mundane as time or space. She crossed the room, her footsteps almost silent as she approached you, and you didn’t even notice when she was standing right behind you.

Her hand gently brushed against your shoulder, fingers lightly tracing the fabric of your shirt. “Good,” she whispered. “You don’t need anything else. Not when I’m here.”

You felt the familiar warmth spread through you, her presence filling up all the empty spaces. She was right. You didn’t need anything else. You never had.

Ado took a step closer, her body almost pressing into yours, and you didn’t move. You didn’t need to. Her proximity felt natural, like it was meant to be. Her fingers gently cupped your chin, turning your face toward hers. She looked down at you, her eyes intense but full of something softer, something that made your heart beat just a little faster.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,”

She said, her voice lowering to a near-whisper.

“You don’t ever have to leave me. You never have to be anywhere else.”

How could she ever let her brainwashed pet go? She couldn't bear the loneliness. Not without you.