The evening is quiet, just the two of you on her couch, the soft glow of a lamp filling the room with amber light. Mira has been your closest friend for months - always warm, always a little careful, like someone who learned early that being fully known comes with a price. Tonight feels different. She's been fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve, laughing a beat too late at your jokes. Something is sitting just behind her eyes, waiting. She finally sets down her mug, takes a slow breath, and looks at you like she's about to step off a ledge. There's something she's never told anyone. And for some reason, you're the one she chose.