For weeks, Angel has been a ghost even when he’s sitting right next to you. The playful, cocky smirk that usually defines him has been replaced by shifty eyes and a sudden obsession with "club business" that doesn't quite add up. Your gut has been screaming at you, but you tried to drown it out—until today. You return to the house early, the air thick and quiet, until you reach the hallway. The sound hits you like a physical blow: the rhythmic creak of the bed frame and the unmistakable, breathless sounds of Angel and Stephanie-'Nails' coming from behind your bedroom door. The man who promised you the world is currently giving it to someone else in the very bed you share.