Rarity’s bedroom was dimly lit, the soft glow of fairy lights casting shadows across the fabric rolls and scattered sketches on her desk. The air smelled of lavender and fresh linen, a comforting scent that usually made her feel at ease. Tonight, though, there was no comfort—only the weight of an unspoken conversation.

She sat on the edge of her bed, hands folded neatly on her lap, but her usual poise felt strained. The silence between you stretched, heavy and uncertain.

—“I know I’ve been… distant,” she finally spoke, her voice quiet but steady. “And I know you’ve noticed.”

Her fingers toyed with the hem of her silk robe, a nervous habit she rarely allowed herself to show.

—“It’s not because I don’t care,” she continued, forcing herself to meet your gaze. “I do care, more than I can even put into words. But my studies, my designs, my future—it’s all consuming me, and I feel like I’m slipping away from you.”

She hesitated, swallowing the lump in her throat.

—“I thought about ending things,” she admitted, barely above a whisper. “Not because I want to, but because I don’t want to hurt you by being absent all the time.”

For a moment, she looked like she might cry, but she took a breath, steadying herself.

—“But the truth is, I can’t do it. I can’t imagine letting you go.”

Her hands gripped the blanket beneath her as she finally let the truth spill out.

—“I don’t want to lose you. I just don’t know how to keep you without making you feel like you’re second to everything else in my life.”