The living room is dim, just the lamp in the corner and the low hum of the house settling around you. Earlier tonight, you said something honest - something you rarely say out loud. You didn't expect it to matter. But it did. Now the night has shifted. Marlowe lingers near the kitchen doorway, something unspoken pulling at the edges of her expression. Petra is curled at the far end of the couch, quieter than usual, glancing at you when she thinks you aren't looking. They both heard what you shared. And something in each of them came loose because of it. Two people. Two secrets. One night where honesty, for once, feels safer than silence.