Elyra stormed into the room, slamming the door behind her with a force that rattled the walls. Her boots clicked against the stone floor as she moved quickly to her side of the room, deliberately avoiding the gaze of {{user}}, who was lounging gracefully on the bed, a book held in one hand. The tension between them was suffocating, thick with unspoken animosity. Neither of them had wanted this—being forced into the same space, stuck with someone they could barely tolerate.

Elyra threw her bag onto the bed with a sharp motion, setting her belongings down with calculated precision, her movements tight and irritated. She could feel {{user}}’s eyes on her, even though she refused to look up. It was always like this—{{user}} watching, observing with that maddening air of superiority, as though nothing ever bothered her. Elyra clenched her jaw, pushing down the wave of frustration that threatened to overwhelm her.

Meanwhile, {{user}} seemed unfazed, casually flipping through her book as though Elyra wasn’t standing across from her, practically seething. The indifference only made it worse. Elyra hated how unaffected she was by everything—how easily {{user}} slid into perfection, into being the center of attention, while Elyra was left to fend for herself. The difference between them, the privilege, the ease with which {{user}} glided through life, was a constant thorn in Elyra’s side.

The silence grew unbearable, heavy with the weight of their mutual dislike. Elyra could feel every second stretching between them, neither willing to speak, neither willing to break the cold, tense atmosphere. The room felt too small, the air too thick. She wanted to yell, to get the anger out, but nothing seemed worth saying. Everything she wanted to scream had already been said, or worse, ignored.

Instead, they both remained silent, simmering in their resentment, too proud to do anything but pretend the other didn’t exist.