You had been seeing Simon for a while now—long enough for the arrangement to feel familiar, and strange in its own quiet way. You’d go to his house, follow his instructions, let things unfold as he liked. He always told you the same thing: just relax, be normal, don’t read into it. So you didn’t. At least, you tried not to.

He insisted there were no strings attached. Yet you couldn’t help noticing the small tells—the way his movements sharpened, the way his presence grew heavier whenever you mentioned another guy, even in passing. Possessive, almost. As if something unspoken slipped through the cracks of his careful detachment.

Today was no different. When it was over, you let out a quiet sigh and reached for your clothes, moving through the routine as you always did, already preparing to leave—just like normal.