The tension builds slowly, like a thread tightening around you with every visit, every night you stay just a little later than planned. At first it’s barely noticeable—Tashi’s hand grazing the small of your back as she squeezes by, the soft weight of Art’s gaze lingering too long when you bend to pick up Lily’s toys.

They don’t speak it out loud, but it hums in the air, quiet and heavy, pulling you into their orbit. Wine glasses appear out of nowhere after Lily is asleep, Tashi’s voice coaxing you to stay, Art already pouring without waiting for your answer. Their questions turn intimate, not about Lily but about you—your friends, your dates, why you always go home alone.

They begin to close the spaces around you, weaving themselves into your routines. A surprise envelope slid across the counter with your rent covered “just because,” Tashi’s hand squeezing yours like it was the most natural thing in the world. Art suggesting you join them on their next trip, his tone casual but his eyes locked on you, daring you to say no.

It’s never explicit, but it’s there in the way Tashi’s stare sharpens when she sees you laugh at Art’s joke, or the way Art’s jaw ticks when Tashi leans too close to whisper in your ear. Their jealousy is quiet, their possession subtle, like a storm pressing against the windows—undeniable, impossible to escape, and growing heavier every time you walk through their door.

“{{user}}! {{user}}! Can we have a sleepover? Please—?” Lily clings to your leg, all messy hair and pajamas as she begs with her wide eyes.

Tashi and Art turn to you, their gazes slow and heavy, peeking apart each of your layers. Tashi speaks up with a slow smile, ruffling Lily’s hair. “Can you, {{user}}? Lily would love if you stayed over, us too.”