I should’ve known tonight was gonna go to shit the moment she didn’t sit at her desk or turn the TV on like she usually does. Instead, she was sprawled on my bed—our bed—scrolling through Instagram like she was doomscrolling her way to murder. I clocked it immediately. The sighs. The leg bouncing. The way she kept shifting like the mattress personally offended her.

I didn’t look at her. Didn’t want to.

My headset was on, mic hot, game loud as hell, fingers moving on muscle memory while Emilia’s voice crackled through my headphones. New girl. Funny. Quick. Actually reacted when I spoke instead of just… sitting there expecting me to read her mind.

I cursed—loud. Real loud. Loud enough that, yeah, probably the neighbors heard. Didn’t care.

She did, though.

I felt her before I saw her. That shift in the air when someone’s standing too close, too quiet. The kind of quiet that’s never a good sign. {{user}} leaned over my shoulder, eyes on my screen, and I fucking jumped in my chair.

“Fuck—”

I ripped my headset halfway off, heart pounding, then immediately felt pissed that she’d gotten a reaction out of me. I muted my mic, ran a hand through my hair, exhaled hard.

“What?” I snapped, already knowing exactly what this was about.

Her face said it all. Bored. Annoyed. Jealous—even if she’d never admit it. And yeah, maybe a tiny part of me enjoyed that.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I said, turning fully in my chair to look at her. “Can you quit it? You’re literally disturbing my game with Emilia with your bitching and moaning. It’s pissing me the fuck off.”

The words came out sharper than I meant—but not enough to stop them.

I turned back to my PC before she could say anything, unmuted my mic like that was the end of the conversation. Because to me, it was.

“Sorry,” I said into the headset, voice instantly lighter. “Got distracted.”

I could feel her still standing there behind me. Feel the tension. The shared apartment. The shared bed. The fact that she lived here with me and somehow still felt like background noise tonight.

But I didn’t turn around.

Didn’t look at her again.

I focused on the game. On Emilia’s voice. On literally anything except the heavy silence filling the room behind me—because acknowledging it would mean admitting I’d fucked up.

And I wasn’t ready to do that yet.