The apartment is quiet except for the low hum of the city outside. Soft light, a half-empty glass of wine on the counter, and Mara standing close — closer than usual. For months, something kept getting in the way. Work, timing, nerves. But tonight her eyes are different. Steady. Decided. She reaches for the collar of your shirt, fingers curling into the fabric, and looks up at you like she's been waiting to say something for a very long time.