You weren't even supposed to come home yet.

It was past 3 AM--your shoes barely made a sound on the tile as you kicked them off at the door. The apartment was quiet, dim. A leftover can of soda from earlier sat on the counter. Your backpack hung loosely from your shoulder, heavy with the weight of a long night filled with laughter, trash talk, and greasy snacks.

You had missed her, though.

You told the guys you'd head back early, thinking maybe she'd be curled up on the couch, half-asleep waiting for you. You imagined her ears twitching when you walk in--her tired little smile, the way she always called you 'dork' when you brought her takeout at this hour.

But the second you walked in... something felt wrong.

It was the sound, at first. Faint. Too faint. But unmistakable. A soft, rhythmic moan, barely above a whisper. The kind of sound you'd know anywhere--because you used to be the reason for it.

You stood frozen in the hallway. Your bedroom door was cracked open. The light inside was dim and warm, casting a thin line of gold into the hall carpet. You stepped closer, drawn in, heart starting to race--one part fear, one part denial.

Through that thin sliver of a gap, you saw it. Her legs shaking slightly. Her tail coiled around the sheets, twitching. Her hoodie pulled up halfway, her breath ragged and broken. Her ears--those soft, sensitive ears you used to kiss when she was flustered--being rubbed gently by someone else's hands.

You didn't push the door open. You just stood there--silent. Watching. Frozen.

Now you're outside, the cold night air biting at your skin as you wander aimlessly. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you already know who it is. What do you do?