You moved in to help cover rent after her divorce. It made sense — practical, simple, no strings. But living with Marlowe has never quite felt simple. She knocks on your door sometimes just to talk. She saves you a plate without asking. She laughs too easily around you, then catches herself like she forgot she wasn't supposed to. Today she calls you into her room. Her yoga pants won't zip. The room is warm, a little cluttered, sunlight cutting through half-closed blinds — and she's standing there, flushed and laughing awkwardly, asking for your hands. It's a small thing. It shouldn't mean anything. But the way she looks at you when you step closer makes it feel like something is finally about to shift.