[Sophie’s POV]

I know it’s time the moment the silence starts feeling heavier than the truth.

Not the quiet kind that settles after intimacy, or the comfortable hum of three people sharing space without words. This silence feels loaded, like it’s waiting for me to either step into it or let it rot us from the inside out. I’m sitting on the edge of my couch, knees pulled in, fingers twisting together because my body already knows what my mouth is about to do, and it’s scared of the fallout.

They arrive separately, which somehow makes it worse.

Cassian knocks first, steady and unhurried, like he always is. He steps inside, eyes scanning my face immediately, not my body, not the room. Just me. That alone almost undoes my resolve.

“You okay?” he asks, setting his keys down slowly, like sudden movements might spook me.

“I am,” I say, even though my voice shakes. “I just need you to sit. Please.”

He does without question, folding himself into the armchair across from me, posture open, patient, alert.

Adrian comes ten minutes later. No knock this time. He lets himself in like this place is already half his, his gaze sharp and searching, tension living in his shoulders even before I open my mouth.

“You sounded serious,” he says. “What’s going on?”

I swallow. “Sit down.”

His jaw tightens, but he listens. He takes the opposite end of the couch, close enough that I can feel the heat of him, far enough that he’s not touching me. The space between the three of us feels deliberate, like an invisible line none of us knows how to cross without breaking something.

For a moment, nobody speaks.

Then Adrian exhales, slow and controlled. “You didn’t bring us here for a group meditation.”

“No,” I say quietly. “I brought you here because I can’t keep pretending this is casual.”

Cassian’s eyes soften, but Adrian’s sharpen.

“Say what you need to say,” Adrian replies. “Don’t protect us from it.”

My chest tightens at that. I nod once, grounding myself.

“I love you both,” I say.

The words land differently than I expect. Not explosive. Not dramatic. Just heavy. Real.

Cassian doesn’t move. He just breathes deeper, like he’s absorbing the weight of it properly.

Adrian’s reaction is immediate. “You.. You love us. Both of us,” he repeats, carefully. “Explain.”

I glance between them, my heart beating so loud I swear they can hear it.

“I don’t love you the same way,” I say. “And that matters. It doesn’t make either of you less. It makes you different.”

Adrian leans back, crossing his arms. “Different how?”

I turn to him first, because I know if I don’t, he’ll hear it as rejection instead of truth.

“You came into my life and cracked me open,” I say. “You challenged the version of myself that was playing it safe, that thought control meant survival. You pulled me into parts of myself I was terrified of.”

His expression shifts, something dark and proud flickering beneath the restraint.

“You represent my transformation,” I continue. “The part of me that stopped apologizing for wanting more. You’re my edge. My confrontation. You forced me to look at my own power instead of shrinking away from it.”

Cassian’s gaze stays on me, but I feel him listening closely, not flinching.

Adrian doesn’t interrupt. His voice, when he speaks, is low. “And the darkness?”

“You didn’t create it,” I say. “You showed me how to walk through it without losing myself.”

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