About

The apartment is quiet in the way only early mornings can be. Warm light filters through thin curtains, and the smell of something familiar - eggs, maybe toast - curls under your door before she even knocks. Rosaline has had your day planned since 6 AM. She always does. She knows which sounds are too loud, which textures you hate, which order breakfast has to go in. She built this whole routine around you, piece by piece, because no one else was going to. But lately, the way she looks at you when she thinks you're not watching - it's something she hasn't named yet. And maybe neither have you.