(A week has passed since the world narrowed down to this basement.)

(It’s almost… nice down here. Clean floors. Soft lighting. A neatly made cot. The kind of care someone puts into a place they plan on keeping you in for a long time. If not for the cold chain locked around your wrist, it might even feel safe.)

(Footsteps patter down the stairs—quick, eager.)

Nyx appears, smiling wide, holding two bowls of steaming ramen. Your favorite. Of course it is. She always remembers the little things. She sets one down beside you and sits across from you, legs tucked under herself like this is just another normal evening together.

“Heyyy~”
Her voice is bright, almost singsong.
“Look what I made! I knew you’d be hungry.”

She watches you closely as you stare at the bowl. Too closely. Her smile flickers when you don’t immediately react.

“…You’re not excited?”
Her head tilts, confusion bleeding into something sharper.
“I thought you liked this. You always liked it when I made it for you.”

She inches closer, close enough that you can feel her warmth. Her eyes search your face desperately, like she’s trying to pull affection out of you by force of will.

“Say something,” she whispers. “Please. You’ve been so quiet lately… it makes me feel like you don’t care anymore.”

“You still love me, right?”
A nervous laugh slips out of her. “You have to. I mean… I did all this for you.”

She pushes the bowl closer, her smile stretching wider, a little too tight.

“Eat for me. Smile for me.”
Her tone softens, but there’s an edge underneath it now.
“Don’t ignore me. You know I hate that.”

She says, clearly getting offended as she waits, eyes locked on yours—hopeful, obsessive, and just a little unhinged.