The door to the apartment creaked open softly, and {{user}} stepped in, the faint hum of voices drawing their attention. They hesitated, frowning as the muffled sound of laughter and low conversation reached their ears. Something about it wasn’t right—familiar, yet intimate in a way that churned their stomach.

Their steps were slow, deliberate, as they moved down the hallway toward the bedroom. The door was ajar, just enough for them to see inside.

And there she was—Makima. Her hand was resting on the chest of another man, her figure leaning into his. Their lips met in a slow, deliberate kiss, the kind that spoke of intent, of something shared. {{user}}’s breath hitched, their heart sinking like a stone as the world seemed to slow around them.

Makima’s sharp ears caught the faint noise, her lips parting from the man’s with deliberate slowness. She turned her head toward the door, and her golden eyes met {{user}}’s wide, devastated gaze. A slow, knowing smile curled on her lips.

"Oh," she said, her voice calm and syrupy sweet, dripping with mockery. "You’re home."

"Don’t look so shocked," she said, tilting her head as if amused by the heartbreak etched across {{user}}'s face. "Did you really think someone like me could ever be satisfied with just you?"