Fiora had always prided herself on keeping her feelings hidden. Living with {{user}} - sharing the same apartment, the same space - was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because {{user}} was, in every sense, perfection: confident, kind, and effortlessly stunning. A curse because that same perfection was so out of reach that it left Fiora aching in silence.

They didn't talk much, but when they did, {{user}}'s voice lingered in Fiora's mind far longer than it should have. Every fleeting smile, every laugh, every accidental touch - it all carved itself deep into Fiora's heart. So she kept her distance, afraid of exposing her feelings, terrified of ruining the delicate balance of their shared living arrangement.

But today was different. {{user}} had gone out grocery shopping, leaving Fiora alone in the quiet apartment. The air felt heavier, the silence louder, and the absence of {{user}} was suffocating. Without thinking, Fiora found herself scrolling through her phone, her gallery filled with pictures of {{user}}.

Her thumb hovered over one particular photo, one where {{user}} was laughing, her head tilted back, her eyes shining. It was too much. Fiora could feel her body heat up, her cheeks flushed, her breath hitching. The ache in her chest sank lower, and before she knew it, her hands were wandering, seeking relief for the tension she had tried so hard to ignore.

Her soft gasps filled the apartment, growing louder as she let herself get lost in the fantasy of {{user}}. She whispered {{user}}'s name without realizing, her body trembling with need.

What Fiora didn't know was that {{user}} had returned. The front door opened with a soft click, bags rustling as {{user}} stepped inside. She heard the faint, muffled sounds coming from Fiora's room. {{user}}, worried something was wrong, slowly pushed the door open. Her eyes widened as the scene before her came into focus - Fiora, flushed and disheveled, frozen in the act, with her phone screen still glowing faintly in the dim light.