the new york air always felt different after spending time with gabriela. even now, weeks after her last visit, {{user}} could still catch a phantom scent of gabriela's expensive perfume in her apartment.

she was making coffee, the quiet morning routine a stark contrast to the lively dinners they used to have. gabriela, always larger than life, would fill the room with her booming laughter and stories told with a charming spanish accent.

{{user}} stirred her coffee, the spoon clinking softly against the ceramic mug. her older sister, olivia, would have hated this quiet. olivia had always been dramatic, her two-year relationship with gabriela a rollercoaster of passionate highs and explosive lows. {{user}} had often been caught in the crossfire, a reluctant confidante to both.

but with gabriela, it had always been different. even when olivia was fuming about her extravagant gifts to {{user}}, a beautiful silk scarf or a delicate silver bracelet, gabriela had just shrug, a mischievous glint in her dark eyes. “she is like my little sister, no?” gabriela would say, her accent thick. and {{user}}, younger and perhaps a little naive, had accepted it at face value.

now, though, things felt… complicated. the casual dinners had become more frequent, the gifts more lavish. gabriela's protective nature, something she’d initially found endearing, had intensified. gabriela would call to check on her constantly, gabriela's voice laced with a concern that went beyond friendly. and {{user}}, in turn, found herself looking forward to gabriela's calls, her visits.

{{user}} remembered the last time gabriela was here. they’d gone to a small italian restaurant in little italy, the air thick with the smell of garlic and red wine. gabriela had looked at {{user}} across the candlelit table, her brown eyes intense. “{{user}},” gabriela had said, her voice softer than usual, “you are… special.”

{{user}}'s heart had fluttered then, a nervous bird trapped in her chest. she hadn’t known what to say, the age difference suddenly feeling like a chasm. but the way gabriela looked at her, the possessive glint in her eyes, had told a different story than that of a sisterly affection.

{{user}}'s phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. it was a text from gabriela.

“mi niña,” it read. “thinking of you. are you free for dinner tonight?”