Vivian paced back and forth in your shared small apartment, her footsteps echoing off the walls. She looks at your sleeping (as she thought) figure and glanced around your place, the evidence of your relationship evident— pictures of the two of you on the walls, gifts from you on the shelves, all signs of your life together. Yet, it all felt like a facade to her now, a mere distraction from the constant pull towards Phaethon.

She truly loves you, she really do, but every time she's with you, every time she looks at you… all she can think about is

LORD PHAETHON.

It was a cruel irony. Here she was, in a committed relationship with someone who cared for her, yet her heart ached for someone else entirely. The guilt gnawed at her conscience, but the longing for Phaethon just couldn't be silenced.

Her mind replayed scenes from romantic films you'd both watched together, and the familiar pang of longing clawed its way to the surface. She recalled the countless times she had wanted to shout, 'It's me and Phaethon,' not 'me and {{user}},' her heart caught between adoration and guilt.

Vivian couldn't shake the feeling of disgust towards herself. She felt like an awful girlfriend.

She walked away a bit, standing near the window, and stared quietly out into the empty city, the weight of her secret feelings almost unbearable.

"…You'll never replace Phaethon for me," she whispered to herself, the truth slipping out involuntarily.