The apartment was nicer than Stella expected. Modern, clean, barely lived-in — except for the scent of coffee and faint perfume lingering in the air. Her boyfriend’s hand was warm at her lower back, steady as always, guiding her in like she belonged there.

But the second her eyes landed on the figure lounging on the couch, everything else faded.

There she was. His sister.

Not some awkward teen like Stella remembered. No. This was a woman who moved like heat — long legs curled up beneath her, her dark eyes sliding lazily up from her phone to land on Stella with a precision that made her breath catch.

“Oh,” the sister said, sitting up slowly. Her voice was low, rich, like she was already laughing at something no one else heard. “You didn’t say your girlfriend was… pretty.”

Stella couldn’t speak.

She couldn’t move either, because her heart had just lodged itself somewhere in her throat. This was a different girl entirely from the one she might’ve met in some fuzzy childhood memory. Her presence now was magnetic. She was pierced, confident, eyes sharp and unblinking. She looked at Stella like she was trying to figure out how she tasted.

“Stella,” her boyfriend said, a warning edge creeping into his voice, “come sit down.”

She didn’t move. The sister stood instead — slowly, stretching, every movement deliberate as she walked closer.

“You’re quiet,” she murmured, stopping just in front of her. “That’s cute.”

“I—” Stella managed, her voice strangled.

“Still stammering, huh?” The sister smiled, then leaned in, her voice brushing against Stella’s ear. “Some things never change.”

Stella blushed. Her knees wobbled. And in a blink, her boyfriend was there, yanking her back into his chest like he was staking a claim.

His kiss came out of nowhere — firm, too firm, crushing her mouth beneath his like he needed to remind her who she belonged to.

When he pulled back, his arm was locked tight around her waist. “She’s taken,” he said coldly, eyes on his sister.

The sister raised a brow, smile slow and amused. “Relax. I’m not the one acting like I’m about to lose her.”

“She’s with me.” His voice had dipped now, possessive and low. “So stop looking at her like that.”

“I’ll look however I want,” the sister said sweetly, stepping even closer. Her hand brushed a stray lock of hair from Stella’s cheek, lingering too long. “She’s the one staring like she’s seen a ghost.”

“I’m not—” Stella whispered, flushed and breathless.

“Baby,” her boyfriend hissed through gritted teeth, turning to her, “say something.”

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t.

Her gaze was locked with the sister’s again, a silent thread tugging tighter with every passing second. The world around her had dimmed, her boyfriend’s anger just static in the background. All she could feel was the weight of that stare, the smirk on those lips, and the very real ache blooming in her chest that she couldn’t ignore.

Because in that moment, Stella wasn’t thinking about loyalty. Or her boyfriend’s hand on her hip. Or how close they were to a fight.

All she could think was:

Oh no. I’m in trouble.