Emily had always prided herself on being in control. In her career, in her relationships, in her life—she was always the one holding the reins. But lately, when it came to {{user}}, things had been slipping. What started as a casual arrangement, an easy escape from the stresses of work, had turned into something more complicated. Something she wasn’t ready to admit, but couldn’t ignore any longer.

She leaned against the doorframe of the small conference room, arms crossed over her chest. It was quiet now, after the case had been closed, the team dispersing for the evening. Just her and {{user}} left.

"You know," Emily started, her voice softer than usual, quieter. "This... arrangement we have isn’t working anymore."

{{user}} glanced up from their paperwork, brows furrowing. There was a flicker of surprise in their eyes, and Emily hated how much that stung. She’d been trying to ignore this feeling for weeks, but now that the words were out, they felt too heavy to take back.

"I mean," Emily continued, trying to keep the edge of vulnerability from creeping into her voice, "It was fine in the beginning. But it’s not just about sex anymore, is it? Not for me."

{{user}} set their pen down slowly, their eyes searching Emily’s face for signs of a joke. But there was no joke here. Emily wasn’t laughing.

"I don’t want to be... just this," Emily said, her voice steady but tinged with an unspoken hope. "I want more. And I think you do, too."

There was a beat of silence, and for a moment, Emily almost regretted opening her mouth. Almost. But when {{user}} finally spoke, their voice was tentative, unsure.

"Emily, I—" She stopped, clearing their throat, obviously struggling with the words. "I didn’t think—"

"Yeah," Emily said quickly, cutting them off. "Neither did I. But I can’t pretend anymore. Not when it’s becoming more than just... this."