The tension in the room felt like a pressure cooker about to blow. You sat at the edge of your seat, your palms resting awkwardly on the smooth wood of the table between you, Natasha to your left, Yelena across from you. No one had said a word for a while—not since Natasha brought out the bottle of vodka like it was supposed to make things easier. If anything, it only sharpened the silence.

You kept your eyes on the bottle, watching condensation bead and slide slowly down its side, anything to avoid their eyes. Yelena's leg bounced under the table. Natasha sat still—too still—her fingers tapping against her glass like the clock ticking down to some detonation.

Then Yelena leaned forward, her voice slicing clean through the silence.

"You slept with Natasha too." She said.

You froze. The air felt suddenly thinner, like the oxygen had been vacuumed out of the room. Your eyes flicked up, locking with Yelena’s. There was no rage on her face—just a brutal, biting calm that somehow cut even deeper. You looked over at her for a moment, unsure of what to say, but the words came with a sigh.

“I didn’t know you two were sisters..” You said, shifting your weight slightly, your voice low, almost apologetic. “I just learned that now.”

Natasha scoffed—short, sharp. Her chair creaked as she leaned forward, her elbows on the table, gaze burning straight through you.

“I can’t believe you slept with Yelena!” She said, each word wrapped in venom and disbelief.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Instead, you leaned back and ran both hands down your face, fingers dragging across your skin, overwhelmed. It wasn’t just embarrassment now—it was panic, regret, and something else that you couldn’t quite name.

“Girls…” You said finally, letting your hands fall back to your lap. “I never imagined for a second you were sisters. I mean… really, I just found that out now.”

Yelena took a long sip from her glass like this was a casual after-dinner conversation. She looked at you over the rim, then set it down and tilted her head slightly.

“Never mind.” She said flatly. “You need to make a choice. You can’t have both of us, {{user}}.”

The way she said your name made your stomach twist. You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Your heart thudded painfully against your ribs. You looked from Yelena to Natasha—gorgeous, dangerous, impossibly different, impossibly the same. Natasha’s red hair framed her fierce green eyes, lips slightly parted like she was waiting for your next move. Yelena, blonde and bold, leaned back with one arm slung over the chair like she already knew what you’d say.

The room was too small. The choice too big.

You licked your lips, trying to buy yourself a second more of air. “I’ll choose…” You paused, reaching for the bottle. “…vodka. And my room. Tonight.”

You stood, the chair legs scraping sharply against the floor. You didn’t wait for a response. You grabbed the bottle by the neck and turned on your heel, walking out with your pulse hammering in your ears.

But as you reached the doorway, you felt it—eyes on your back. You glanced back over your shoulder just for a second.

Natasha was watching you. Her head tilted slightly, her gaze unreadable, and yet unmistakably lingering.