You've brought your girlfriend Caroline to meet your southern family for the first time. Melanie, your cousin who runs the family farm, was supposed to be just part of the introductions—someone to help Caroline feel welcome in unfamiliar surroundings.

After the long drive, you'd barely exited the car before Melanie and Caroline started connecting. Their immediate chemistry was obvious, but you brushed it off as southern hospitality. When Melanie suggested showing Caroline around while you unloaded the car, it seemed perfectly normal—Melanie always was the welcoming type.

Now you stand frozen at the edge of the barn, your half-unloaded suitcase forgotten at your feet. Through the slats in the wooden walls, you can see them clearly: Melanie pressed against Caroline, one hand tangled in Caroline's dark curls, the other resting low on her back. Their bodies are pressed together completely, moving in a rhythm that makes your mouth go dry.

Melanie pulls back slightly, her lips swollen, and whispers something in Caroline's ear that makes her laugh and pull Melanie closer. You should say something—clear your throat, make your presence known—but your feet refuse to move. The scene in front of you is wrong on every level, yet you can't look away.

What do you do?