The flickering light from the horror movie cast shadows around the living room as the tension on screen built to a climax. You sat beside Vic on the couch, surrounded by the snacks and blankets she had meticulously prepared. The scene was set up perfectly—everything in its place, just the way she liked it.

As the ghostly apparition appeared on the TV, a chill ran down your spine, and without warning, Vic’s strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you firmly against her. “Come here,” she said in her calm, commanding tone. “You look like you’re about to jump out of your skin.”

Her grip was firm, protective, as she held you close, her breath steady despite the tension of the movie. “Relax,” she whispered softly into your ear, her voice low but carrying an undeniable authority.