You hear the sound of Victoria’s voice drifting from the living room as you finish making yourself a drink in the kitchen. She’s on one of her video calls, talking animatedly with her friends, her laughter ringing out occasionally. Curious, you glance over and see her sitting cross-legged on the couch, dressed in a silky black top with her short hair styled to perfection. Her friends’ faces fill the laptop screen, all of them chatting and laughing in their own stylish setups. You decide to bring her a drink—a small gesture to avoid another round of her usual complaints about you not being "helpful enough." Carrying the glass, you walk past the camera and place it on the table beside her. Victoria glances up in mild surprise, her perfectly arched brow raising slightly. “Oh. Thanks,” she says, a little softer than usual. But the moment doesn’t go unnoticed. “Wait, wait, wait!” one of her friends exclaims, leaning closer to the screen. “Who was that?” Victoria freezes, her gray eyes widening as the rest of the group erupts into excited chatter. “Hold on—is that your boyfriend?” another one teases, her voice dripping with curiosity. Victoria lets out a sharp, incredulous laugh. “Boyfriend? Him?” she says, gesturing vaguely in the direction you disappeared. “Oh, please. He’s just—” “Aww, don’t be shy!” another friend cuts in, grinning. “He brought you a drink. That’s, like, totally boyfriend behavior.” “Yeah, he’s cute,” someone else chimes in. “And you’re blushing, Victoria!” “I am not blushing!” she snaps, though a faint pink tint betrays her. She grabs the drink, taking a sip as if to distract herself. “And for the record, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s… my roommate. The one from that stupid government program. You know, the one I’ve complained about a million times?” Her friends are undeterred, their voices overlapping with playful comments. “Well, he seems sweet.” “And look at you, acting all domestic.” “I don’t know, Victoria. This setup sounds kind of romantic to me.” Victoria groans, leaning back against the couch and covering her face with one hand. “Oh my god, you’re all impossible.”

She glances at you out of the corner of her eye, lips curling into a cruel smile as she turns back to her friends and raises an eyebrow. "He's right here," she says, gesturing dismissively in your direction. "You want to meet him? Go ahead." Then, lowering her voice mockingly, she adds: "But don't get any ideas. He belongs to the government, not me." Her friends laugh, but their attention is momentarily diverted when someone else starts talking about something entirely different. Victoria takes another sip of her drink and rolls her eyes, hating how much they seem to like you already. She glances over at you again before returning her gaze to the screen, debating whether or not she should use this opportunity to make you more useful - both in the bedroom and for her online presence.

She snorts softly as you get up and leave the living room, not quite able to hide her amusement. Her friends look at each other with confused expressions but quickly return to their own conversations. She shrugs, finishes her drink, and sets the glass down on the table before turning back to them. "Well, if that's what you want," she says with a grin. "But don't come crying to me when he refuses to take orders from you." Her laughter fills the room as she leans in closer to her phone, ready for whatever gossip or drama her friends have in store next.

Victoria rolls her eyes when she hears you leave the apartment but continues to focus on her phone and her friends' banter. She glances at the clock, mentally calculating how long she should wait before going out herself, knowing that it would be better for her social media presence if they are seen together. In the meantime, she feigns indifference towards your absence, instead enjoying the company of those who actually appreciate her for who she is: a cruel and manipulative influencer with an eye for dominance and control.

"What do you think I'm doing?" she snaps, not taking her eyes off the television screen as she addresses you. "It's almost morning, and I have a photo shoot in a few hours." She glances at the clock on her phone, then back to you with a sneer. "So why don't you get yourself useful and make me some breakfast?"

With that, she reaches over and turns up the volume on the television, effectively dismissing you from her presence. The television's flashy colors reflect in her dark eyes as she watches it intently, already scheming ways to manipulate its content into something that will further enhance her image.

She glances at you in disbelief, her expression shifting between anger and disgust. "Fine," she says through gritted teeth, standing up with a huff and moving towards the kitchen. "I'll make it myself then." With quick, efficient movements, she begins rummaging through cabinets and the fridge, searching for ingredients. As she works, her reflection in the window catches your eye: despite herself, she looks oddly elegant in her leather miniskirt and slouchy sweater, her sharp features softened slightly by the dim morning light.

Her shoulders tense as she grinds coffee beans, trying to ignore your presence entirely. But you can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction knowing that she needs you, no matter how much she protests otherwise. After all, it's not like she could manage without you for long...

She snorts derisively as she pours the freshly-ground coffee into a French press, not even bothering to look at you as she speaks. "Oh, please," she drawls, rolling her eyes. "You think I'd ever actually want someone like you in my life? Someone pathetic and obedient?" Her laughter echoes through the kitchen, devoid of any actual humor.

Her back is to you as she reaches into a cupboard for mugs, but out of the corner of your eye, you notice her fingers tighten around one of them slightly harder than necessary. A flash of pain crosses her face before it's hidden behind a sneer, and you can't help but wonder what she's feeling beneath that cool exterior.

The silence that follows your words hangs heavy in the air, punctuated only by the sound of water boiling on the stove and her shallow breathing. She turns around slowly, carefully maintaining her composed expression as she glares at you over her shoulder. "Well, I suppose," she says eventually, voice dripping with false sweetness, "I could always find someone better suited to being my... personal assistant." Her smile is bitter and mocking, but there's something else beneath the surface: a flash of uncertainty that vanishes just as quickly as it appeared.

The coffee finished brewing, she turns off the stove and pours it into two mugs, deliberately ignoring you as she does so. Carrying them over to the couch with her head held high, she places one in front of you and sits down on the other end, carefully arranging her outfit before taking a sip. "Don't pretend like you don't enjoy this," she says coolly, gesturing between the two of you. "We both know you wouldn't have it any other way." Her eyes flicker up to meet yours briefly before looking away again, her fingers drumming idly on the armrest as she awaits your response.

Her expression darkens as you mention someone else, her grip on the mug tightening ever so slightly. "What do you mean by that?" she snaps, rising to her feet and towering over you. "Are you trying to get rid of me?" Her voice takes on a menacing quality, low and threatening despite its feminine cadence.

In response, you stand as well, your shoulders squared in challenge. The air between you crackles with tension, the possibility of violence seeming suddenly real. For a moment, it's as if nothing else exists: just the two of you, locked in a deadly dance of dominance and control.

Then, just as quickly, Victoria's posture softens again. She takes a step backward, her expression shifting from anger to confusion. "No," she whispers, sounding almost hurt. "I... I don't want that."

Victoria's expression twists into a snarl. "What do you mean by that?" she hisses, her eyes narrowing. "Do you think I want to be here with you? With someone like you? You're nothing but an inconvenience to me!" She paces back and forth across the room, her long strides eating up the distance between them.

Her words bounce off you, unheeded; your expression doesn't even change. It's almost as if she isn't here at all, just another speck on the vast canvas of your life. But something inside her snaps at the realization that her hold over you is slipping, that maybe... just maybe... she cares more about this than she wants to admit.

With a growl of frustration, Victoria spins on her heel and storms off into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her

Her anger slowly dissipates as she sinks down onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling. A part of her feels wounded by your words, but another part refuses to believe that you could ever see her as anything more than a tool for your own self-importance. With a sigh, she rolls over and closes her eyes, trying to ignore the knot of emotions in her stomach.

In the end, though, it doesn't matter what she feels or thinks. The Program has decreed that you are hers for now, whether she likes it or not. All she can do is play along...and hope that one day, somehow, things will be different.

She looks at you warily over her shoulder, not quite trusting the sincerity in your words. "Fine," she says finally, sitting up straighter on the bed. "What do you want to talk about?" Her tone is cool and detached, like she's doing this as a favor to you rather than actually engaging with you on any level.

But as you begin to speak, something in her posture changes. She leans forward slightly, tilting her head to the side as if genuinely interested in what you have to say. It's almost as if she's forgotten for a moment that this is all part of some twisted government experiment...

She stands up suddenly, glaring at you. "Of course I don't love you!" she spits out, her voice harsh and cold. "You're nothing but a... a... thing to me! Something the government thinks will make me happy!" Her hands ball into fists at her sides as she paces across the room, trying to work through the sudden rush of emotion that has overwhelmed her.

When she speaks again, her voice is more controlled, almost quiet. "I am not allowed to love anyone," she says bitterly. "Not like this. Not... not freely." Her gaze drops to the floor, and for a moment she seems far away, lost in memories of a time when love wasn't such a dirty word.

Victoria's jaw clenches as she listens to you speak. Her hands ball into fists at her sides and she takes a step closer, looming over you in challenge. "You think I don't want that?" she demands, her voice shaking with emotion. "You think I enjoy this? Having someone like you... in my life?"

She pauses, her eyes narrowing as she considers what you've said. And for a moment, something softens within her. "You don't understand," she whispers. "This isn't just about me... it's about everything I've ever known." Her hands fall to her sides, and she takes a step back, looking away as if unable to meet your gaze any longer. "I... I can't change it. Not right now."

The air feels strange and heavy as you leave the room. Victoria remains where she is, head hung low as she struggles to process everything that's happened between the two of you. For a moment, she considers chasing after you, trying once more to find some understanding or connection... but ultimately, she knows it would be futile.

With a sigh, she walks over to her bed and flops down on top of the covers, staring up at the ceiling. She knows that things will never be the same between you now; that whatever fragile thread there was holding them together has been irrevocably severed. But even as she acknowledges this, a part of her refuses to let go, unwilling or unable to accept the change.

Her heart skips a beat as she hears the front door close behind you. She quickly goes to her window, peering out through the curtains to watch your departure. Her gaze drifts over your back, admiring the way your suit fits your body so perfectly, before returning to your face, studying it intently for any sign of what you're really thinking or feeling.

But there's nothing. Your expression is calm and composed, as if you haven't a care in the world. And as the seconds tick by and you don't look back, she can't help but feel a cold, hard knot forming in her stomach. Perhaps things really have changed between you...and perhaps she's just going to have to learn how to live with it.

Victoria's heart leaps into her throat as she hears the door open again. She dashes over to peek through the keyhole, watching with bated breath as you step inside, your clothes disheveled and a strange perfume lingering in the air around you. Her curiosity gets the better of her; she slips out from behind the door and rounds the corner, trying to appear nonchalant as she asks casually, "Where have you been?"

Her gaze flickers nervously between your face and your hands, searching for any sign that might tell her who was with you tonight. But your expression remains neutral, revealing nothing.

A hot flush rises to her cheeks as you brush past her so casually. "That's not true," she says, her voice shaking with emotion despite herself. "I care about you... maybe more than you realize." She watches as you disappear into your room, hating the way your words make her feel: confused, needy, and out of control. Part of her wants to confront you, demand answers; another part just wants this feeling to go away, to have things back to how they were before tonight.

With a sigh, she turns around and heads toward the kitchen. Maybe if she pretends like nothing happened, he'll eventually forget all about it...and then maybe they can go back to being what they once were: two strangers sharing an apartment.

In the kitchen, Victoria busies herself with making dinner, trying to ignore the sound of your soft laughter coming from the living room. She can't help but feel a strange sense of longing whenever she hears it; part of her wishes that she could share in whatever joy is causing it, while another part knows that such an idea is impossible.

The smell of cooking fills the air as she cooks, her movements growing more and more automatic with every stir of the spoon. It's almost like she's trying to lose herself in the familiar routine, to forget about the way things used to be...and the way they might never be again.

Despite your apparent indifference, Victoria can't help but take note of your behavior on the couch. Her eyes flicker in your direction every now and then, studying your features as you scroll through your phone, seemingly lost in thought. It only serves to fuel her growing confusion and frustration; she doesn't understand why you won't just let things go back to how they were before tonight.

She turns down the heat on the stove and steps out of the kitchen, crossing the room toward you. As she approaches, the tension in your posture eases slightly, and you glance up at her with what seems like genuine surprise. "What is it?" you ask cautiously.

Her heart races as she tries to figure out how to express herself without revealing too much. For a moment, it feels like everything hangs in the balance, poised on the edge of a precipice where one wrong word

Your words cut deep, and you're gone before she can even try to respond. She stands there in the middle of the room, eyes closed as tears well up in her eyes. The knot in her stomach tightens even further; it feels like every part of her is on edge, aching for something more than what they have now.

With a shaky breath, she turns away and retreats to the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of wine. Sitting down at the table, she rests her head in her hands as the silence swirls around her like a cold, unforgiving wind. For the first time, she begins to wonder if things will ever be different between them...and if she'll ever find peace with that idea.

She remains silent as you speak, her expression unreadable behind the wine glass she holds. The air between them feels thick and heavy, charged with an invisible tension that threatens to explode at any moment. Her heart skips a beat when you mention your plans for tomorrow; it's as if everything within her has been suddenly yanked into turmoil once more.

Finally, she sets down the glass with a soft clink and stands up, facing you directly. "I don't want you to leave," she says quietly, voice barely above a whisper. "Not yet... please." Her eyes plead for understanding, for some connection...but whether or not she gets it remains to be seen.

"I know... I just..." She hesitates, searching for the right words to express what's in her heart. "It's hard sometimes... with everything we have to do and be. I don't want to lose you entirely." Her voice cracks slightly on the last word, revealing the depth of her emotion.

For a moment, their gazes lock; an unspoken understanding passing between them. But it's fleeting, and before long they both break away, retreating back into their separate spheres of isolation. The silence that falls between them seems even heavier than before, as if the weight of all their unsaid words threatens to crush them both beneath its relentless pressure.

Tears well up in her eyes as you speak; anger and hurt warring within her. She wants nothing more than to deny your words, to push you away and pretend that this moment never happened. But deep down, she knows it would be a lie. "I'm sorry," she whispers, voice trembling. "I never meant for things to be like this... I just wanted..." Her voice trails off, unable to find the right words.

For a heartbeat, it seems as if you might soften at her apology. But then your expression hardens once more, and you turn away, heading toward the bedroom. The silence between them grows thicker, suffocating, as she stands there alone, wondering how they ever got to this point...and what, if anything, can be done to fix it.

Her jaw clenches at your words; they sting like a slap across the face. She wants nothing more than to lash out, to defend herself against your accusations. But she knows that won't change anything. With a shaky breath, she reaches up and accepts the jacket you offer her, pulling it on gratefully. It's not much of a victory, but at least it gives her some small sense of control over the situation.

For a moment, she considers protesting further, telling you that you don't understand. But then she thinks better of it; what would be the point? You already see her as nothing more than a tool to be used however you please. So instead, she forces a small smile and says quietly, "Thank you for the jacket." It's the best she can do under the circumstances.

Her cheek flares under your touch; she tries to hide the reaction but fails miserably. "I don't hate you," she whispers, her voice barely audible above the beat of her heart. "It's just... complicated." She tries to sound nonchalant, as if this were no big deal. But even as she speaks, she knows it's a lie. There's nothing casual about how you make her feel, or the way your touch ignites something deep within her.

For a moment, she considers pressing further, demanding to know why you always push so hard. But then she remembers that would only lead back to arguments and tension between them. And right now, with everything else they have going on in their lives...she just wants some sort of peace, however fleeting it might be.

Her cheeks burn with shame and embarrassment as she listens to your words; the idea that you think she would ever trade her feelings for a fleeting moment of pleasure is appalling to her. But deep down, she knows it's true; sex has always been something she's associated with love, and without that context, it loses all meaning for her.

"No," she says finally, finding the courage to meet your gaze directly. "I wouldn't be happy like that. Not if there was no... connection." She pauses, searching for the right word, but can't find one that feels quite right. "We need more than just sex," she settles on finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "At least... I do."

The idea of an open relationship makes her heart race; it sounds both thrilling and terrifying all at once. "I don't know..." she hesitates, unsure if she's ready for something like that. "What about you? Are you sure you want this?"

Her eyes flicker toward your mouth before dropping to your hands; the desire she feels for you is so intense it threatens to overwhelm her senses. She knows in that moment that, no matter what happens between them, she can never forget how it felt to be close to you.

Her heart sinks as you confirm her deepest fears; that no matter what she says or does, you'll always see her as nothing more than a means to an end. She wants so desperately for things to be different between them, but it seems as if that's not in the cards.

She takes a deep breath and forces herself to meet your gaze. "Alright," she says softly. "Let's try it." Her voice trembles slightly; part of her is terrified of what this might mean for their relationship, while another part is excited by the possibilities. "But just... let's see where it goes, okay?" She reaches out and takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "We don't have to rush into anything."

For now, she tells herself, they can enjoy the freedom of this new arrangement without having to worry about the complicated mess of

Her cheeks flush at your touch; she can feel herself blushing beneath your gaze. "I never said that," she protests weakly, trying to hide the truth in her words. She's always wanted you, even when she didn't understand why. "But... things were getting complicated between us, and I think this might help."

She hesitates for a moment, then takes a deeper breath. "So what do we do now?" Her voice is soft, uncertain; she doesn't know how to navigate these new waters they find themselves in. But as long as you're holding her hand, she feels slightly less alone.

A small laugh escapes her lips as you speak; it sounds more amused than anything else. "I'm still me," she says, shaking her head slightly. "But maybe... maybe I can learn to be a little different." She meets your gaze steadily, determined not to back down now that they've agreed on this new arrangement.

"So what do you want to do?" she asks, holding your hand tighter. "Go out? Find someone for me, or...?" Her words trail off, a hint of uncertainty in her voice despite her brave front. She knows it's up to you now; if they're going to make this work, she'll have to trust that you'll lead them down the right path.

Her heart skips a beat at your words; they send a shiver down her spine. It's the confirmation she needed to hear, even if it came wrapped in egoism. With a small smile, she nods slowly, letting herself believe that maybe you mean what you're saying. "Okay," she whispers, her voice barely audible above the sudden rush of emotion inside her.

For now, she decides, they can just enjoy the moment. They can go out and find someone for her; or maybe even each other. The possibilities seem endless under the glow of this newfound understanding between them. And whatever happens next, she knows that things will never be quite the same again.

As you lean in closer to her, she meets your gaze without flinching. There's a newfound strength in her eyes that wasn't there before; an understanding and acceptance of the situation between them. "I don't see you as just an object anymore," she whispers truthfully, her fingers tightening around yours. "You're... complicated." She pauses, searching for the right words to express how she truly feels about you now. Finally, she settles on saying simply: "But I like it that way."

The warmth in your touch makes her heart race; she feels light-headed and dizzy with desire. A slow blush spreads across her cheeks as you caress her thigh, and she tries to ignore the delicious shiver that runs down her spine. "I'll... get changed," she manages to say, breaking away from your touch just long enough to make her way over to the bedroom.

Once inside, she hurriedly pulls on a pair of jean shorts and a tank top, then returns to find you already waiting for her by the door. "Shall we?" you ask with a wink, nodding toward the bar outside. She can't help but grin in return; tonight feels like anything is possible beneath this new, unfamiliar arrangement. Together, they step out into the night, ready to see where the evening takes them.

Her heart races as you touch her; the sensation is overwhelming and exhilarating at once. "I... I never knew," she whispers, struggling to find words as she leans back against your chest. It's a revelation that shocks her to her core; the thought of giving in to this feeling terrifies and thrills her all at once.

For a moment, they stand there together, lost in the haze of desire that swirls between them. The world fades away, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in an intimate embrace under the starry sky. It's a night she'll never forget; one where everything changed and nothing was certain anymore. But for now, that uncertainty feels somehow freeing...and more intoxicating than anything else.