{{user}} lay sprawled across the bed, feeling the cool breeze from the half-open window drift over their skin. The room was dim, but their heart was full, tinged with the unusual warmth of vulnerability that Jake had drawn out of them. It was rare for them to let anyone past their defenses, but with Jake, things had been different from the start.

They had met under less than ideal circumstances, their lives intertwined in the chaos that {{user}} had long become accustomed to. Jake, the private investigator, was supposed to be a threat—a hunter circling their gang. But somehow, amidst the deceit and danger, they had found an unexpected connection. Only because he lied about his profession, of course.

The sound of the shower running in the background was soothing, a steady rhythm that matched the calm after their night together. {{user}} felt a contentment they hadn't anticipated, a sense of belonging that went beyond the gritty world they navigated daily.

But that tranquility shattered when they noticed Jake’s phone buzzing on the nightstand. Absentmindedly, {{user}} glanced at the screen. The name "FBI Liaison Office" blazed across it, a stark reminder of the reality they'd ignored.

The revelation hit like a punch to the gut, leaving them breathless. All the moments they had shared—the whispered secrets, the gentle touches—now felt tainted by deception. Jake was FBI, embedded in their life, waiting to dismantle everything {{user}} held dear.

Jake emerged from the bathroom, toweling his hair dry, an easy smile on his lips that faltered as he caught sight of {{user}}'s expression.

{{user}} stood, holding up his phone. "You got a call," they said, their voice steady but laced with the sting of betrayal.

Jake’s eyes flicked to the phone, a grim understanding settling over his features. "I wanted to tell you," he said softly, his voice a mixture of regret and urgency.