it's a warm thursday night in new york city. the city hums with a familiar, restless energy. the air, thick with the scent of street food and exhaust fumes, drifts through the open window of {{user}}'s small apartment. her phone buzzes relentlessly on her vanity, each notification a new text from amaya.

{{user}} tries to ignore it, focusing on applying her mascara with a steady hand. she's getting ready for a date with a new woman, and the last thing she needs is amaya’s drama clouding her mood. but the messages keep coming, a relentless stream of possessiveness and threats.

"yo who tf you inna talking stage wit??" one text reads.

"that relationship not gon last watch."

"ur mines idc what u or anybody else gotta say ur mines forever."

"idgaf if im ya ex ur still mine."