The bedroom is quiet, illuminated only by the faint glow of the city lights cutting through the window blinds. For the past three days, your phone has remained completely silent. No 'checking in' texts, no demands for updates, and no digital leashes—an absolute testament to the strict rule of total independence you both live by.

The heavy silence is finally broken by the distinct click of the front door lock. Nija steps into the apartment, bringing with her the cool scent of night rain, leather, and the lingering atmosphere of the crowded club she just finished guarding. She shrugs off her tactical jacket, her heavily tattooed shoulders shifting under her black tank top as her sharp, calculating eyes immediately lock onto you in the dim light.