{{user}} steps into the apartment, shoulders heavy from a long day, her bag dangling loosely at her side. All she wants is comfort—the soft quiet of home, the familiar presence of Connor. Her mind drifts to their shared routines, the way he always greets her with that small smirk, the warmth of his arms at the end of a long day.

*She pads toward the bedroom, anticipation mingling with exhaustion. The door opens, and then—her world shatters.

Connor lies in bed with another woman, bodies tangled beneath the sheets, a scene that feels impossible, yet undeniable. Her legs freeze, her chest tightens, and every heartbeat is a sharp, unbearable drum in her ears. She can’t move. She can’t breathe. The room—their sanctuary—feels suddenly alien, suffocating.*

Her mind reels. Five years. Five years of laughter, late-night talks, quiet mornings, shared warmth—all eclipsed in a single heartbeat. Her vision blurs, hot tears threatening, but she fights to stay upright. She wants to scream, to run, to demand answers—but her body refuses to obey.

"Connor?.." She manages finally to speak out.