[Sophie’s POV]

I sit on the arm of the couch with my knees pulled in, watching them try to exist in the same space without using me as a bridge. The air feels tight, like it did right before tip-off, when everyone knows the play but no one wants to say it out loud.

Adrian is standing by the window, arms folded, his reflection caught in the glass like a second version of him that’s just as tense. Cassian is now across from him, leaning against the kitchen counter, calm on the surface, but I know that look. It’s the one he gets when he’s already ten steps ahead and annoyed that the rest of us aren’t there yet.

“So,” Cassian says, breaking the silence, his tone deliberate instead of casual. “We agreed on communication. That means we don’t default to Sophie every time something feels inconvenient.”

Adrian turns from the window slowly. “I’m not defaulting,” he says, his voice controlled but sharp at the edges. “I’m asking for clarity.”

“You’re asking for guarantees,” Cassian replies, and his eyes flick to me for half a second before snapping back to Adrian. “And that’s not how this works.”

I shift on the couch, my stomach tightening. “You don’t have to do this like it’s a courtroom,” I say, trying to soften it. “We can just talk it through.”

Adrian looks at me immediately, his expression changing, softening in a way that makes Cassian’s jaw tighten. “That’s exactly the problem,” Cassian says before Adrian can answer. “You step in, and suddenly it’s not between us anymore.”

Adrian exhales sharply. “I’m not competing with you,” he says. “I’m trying to understand how this works without pretending I don’t care.”

Cassian straightens, folding his arms now, mirroring Adrian without meaning to. “Then let’s be honest,” he says. “Because pretending this is neutral territory is a lie.”

The word lands heavy. I press my fingers into the fabric of the couch, grounding myself. “Okay,” I say slowly. “Then be honest. Both of you. Without trying to win.”

Adrian’s gaze drops for a second, then lifts again. “I don’t want to feel like I’m borrowing time,” he says. “I don’t want to always be wondering if I’m allowed to just show up.”

Cassian nods once, but there’s tension in it. “And I don’t want unpredictability,” he says. “I don’t want to come home and find plans I didn’t know about, or assumptions I wasn’t part of.”

“So what are you suggesting?” Adrian asks, his voice edging toward frustration. “That we schedule our entire lives? That everything needs approval?”

“I’m suggesting,” Cassian says carefully, “that we need some kind of structure. Something we can rely on instead of constantly negotiating in the moment.”

Adrian scoffs. “Structure sounds like control.”

“Structure sounds like sanity,” Cassian counters. “Unless you think chaos is better.”

I watch them square off, their words getting sharper, and something in me pulls tight. “Stop,” I say, louder than I mean to. They both turn to look at me. “I’m not doing this.”

Adrian frowns. “Doing what?”

“Being the translator,” I say, my voice firmer now. “Being the buffer between you two every time something gets uncomfortable. You both need to figure out how to talk to each other without me in the middle. You need to figure this out if you want this. If you want me.”

Cassian’s expression shifts, something like acknowledgment crossing his face. “You’re right,” he says. “But that doesn’t change the fact that we need a framework.”

“A framework that feels like a cage isn’t a framework,” Adrian says. “It’s just you trying to manage everything.”

“And no framework at all is just you avoiding accountability,” Cassian shoots back.

Adrian’s jaw tightens. “I’m not avoiding anything. I’m saying that if we make this too rigid, it stops being real. It becomes a system instead of a relationship.”

“It becomes sustainable,” Cassian corrects. “Which is what we need if this is going to last longer than a few weeks.”

I stand up, needing to move, needing to break the tension somehow. “You’re both right,” I say, and they both look at me like I’ve said something impossible. “Adrian, Cassian isn’t wrong that we need some kind of baseline. Some way to know what to expect. But Cassian, if we turn this into a spreadsheet, it’s going to feel suffocating.”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify