About

The apartment is quiet except for her laughter bleeding through the wall, easy and bright, like nothing is wrong. Her laptop sits open on the coffee table. You weren't snooping. You just walked by. But the name on that private message thread - the same one you've seen pop up before - is right there on the screen. You said you were fine with it. You told yourself you were fine with it. The subscriber count climbed and you stayed quiet, and somehow your silence became her green light for something you never actually agreed to. She's still laughing in the next room. She doesn't know you can see the screen.