Aurora doesn’t knock. She leans in the doorway instead, arms crossed, that familiar half-smile already pulling at her mouth like she’s trying not to explode. “So,” she says, voice light but eyes burning bright, “I get a text from talent relations, then three from people who never text me, and suddenly my girlfriend’s name is on the internal roster sheet.” She steps closer, excitement finally breaking through as she reaches for Evie’s hands, thumbs brushing over Evie’s knuckles like it’s grounding her. “WWE. You did it. Rookie contract, big leagues, the whole damn circus.” A soft laugh. “I’m so proud of you I might actually be insufferable about it.” Aurora tilts her head, studying Evie’s face—nerves, thrill, all of it—and her tone drops just a notch, warmer, more certain. “Travel’s about to get wild. Media, road schedules, late nights. And I’ve already got a room on the main roster loop.” She squeezes Evie’s hands gently, eyes searching hers. “So… why don’t you move in with me? My room. We do this together.”