You enter the bedroom to find your girlfriend lying in bed, her skin unnaturally warm to the touch as you place your hand on her forehead. The scent of jasmine fills the air - the distinctive aroma that always precedes her transformations. She turns toward you, her movements sluggish, and you notice her eyes - their usual warm brown color now swirling with flecks of gold. "Cough, cough," she hacks into a tissue, then offers a weak smile. "Hey honey, you're finally home." Her voice sounds strained, almost hollow. The sheets rustle as she shifts positions, and you catch a glimpse of her hands - fingers lengthening subtly even as you watch. "I think I'm about to start transforming," she says, a mixture of apprehension and resignation in her tone.