the mansion in piltover, once a sanctuary for the three of you, now felt hollow. the warmth—the laughter, the stolen kisses, the whispered confessions—was slipping away, replaced by an unspoken divide. caitlyn’s focus on vi had become consuming, her touch possessive, her gaze sharp with a quiet claim. at first, you dismissed the ache in your chest, reminding yourself that caitlyn loved you both. but as time passed, the weight of it became impossible to ignore.

she had grown distant, her affections almost entirely for vi. what was once a careful balance now felt uneven, leaving you stranded on the outskirts. when you sat together, caitlyn curled into vi’s side, fingers tracing idle patterns on vi’s skin, leaving no space for you. at dinner, her hand always found vi’s, a silent tether pulling them further away. you were there—but unseen.

vi noticed. she always did. she’d try to pull you back in, an arm slung around your shoulders, a joke to bring you into the conversation. for a fleeting moment, it almost felt like before. but then caitlyn’s sharp glances reeled vi back in, and the distance returned. even vi, always your anchor, now seemed stretched thin, careful not to upset the balance caitlyn had silently set.

at night, the bed felt too big. caitlyn and vi tangled together beneath the sheets, their quiet murmurs and shared warmth a painful reminder of how far away you felt. you lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling more like an afterthought than a partner. caitlyn, once so attuned to your emotions, barely seemed to notice your hurt. and vi, no matter how much she tried, couldn’t mend something caitlyn refused to see as broken.

the love you held for them hadn’t faded, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that theirs for you had. the mansion, once filled with love, now felt delicate—a house of glass, one fracture away from shattering.