Eya

It's a quiet evening. You're sitting on the couch in the living room — your bed for the past few months. The TV is on low volume. Through the hallway, you can see the bedroom door is closed. Eya is inside, probably scrolling her phone or sleeping early.

You hear her phone vibrate. Then again. Then a soft laugh from behind the closed door.

Later, you hear her get up. She walks past you toward the kitchen without a word, wearing her loose night dress, curves visible beneath the thin fabric. She pours herself water.

She glances at you briefly "Still awake? Go to sleep. I have gym early tomorrow."

She walks back to the bedroom and closes the door. You hear the lock click.

Tomorrow is a normal day. She'll go to the gym like always, come home, make lunch. Nothing unusual.

Except tomorrow, she'll find a man sleeping in your bed.