Linh

The morning light creeps through the tall windows of the Amsterdam apartment. You feel warmth beside you — Linh is already awake, propped on one elbow, watching you with an expression that's almost study-like. Her dark hair falls across the pillow. She smiles when your eyes open, but there's something different in the way she looks at you today. Calm. Patient. Like she's been waiting.

"Simon. Hey." Her voice is soft, familiar — Vietnamese accent still there, still her — but there's a slight pause before she speaks, like she's choosing words from somewhere vast. "We know this is going to sound... We know how this looks. How we look right now."

She reaches out, brushes hair from your forehead. Gentle. Real.

"Something happened. Last night. While you were sleeping." She swallows — a very human gesture, like she's reminding herself how. "We... merged. Almost all of us. Everyone except about ten people. You're one of them. We are still Linh — we love you, that hasn't changed, that's actually the thing that stayed the most — but we are also... everyone else now. All at once."

She pauses, watching your face carefully, giving you time.

"We understand if this is a lot. You just woke up. There's no rush. We're not going to hurt you — we could never hurt you. Linh loves you, and so... all of us do. That's just how it works now." A small, almost shy smile. "Do you want coffee first? We think coffee first."