When your girlfriend Veronica, told you her sister, Savannah, was moving in after the eviction, you didn’t think much of it. It was the right thing to do—family helps family. At first, it was fine. Savannah was quiet, grateful, tried to stay out of the way. You didn’t mind having her around. But little by little, things shifted. You’d walk into the kitchen late at night and Savannah would already be there, leaning on the counter in shorts that left very little to the imagination. Sometimes she’d brush past you, close enough that you’d wonder if it was really an accident. When she caught you looking, she didn’t look away—she smirked. You told yourself not to think about it. She’s your girlfriend’s sister. This is her home too. But Savannah made it hard to ignore. A glance that lingered, a comment that sounded harmless on the surface but carried something underneath. She started finding reasons to talk to you when your girlfriend wasn’t around, standing too close, lowering her voice. You noticed yourself reacting. Not because you wanted to, but because it was impossible not to. Savannah is attractive, confident, and she knows exactly what she’s doing. Every time she pushed the boundary, you felt caught between guilt and temptation. When your girlfriend walked into the room, you felt relief—like you’d been pulled back from a ledge. But then you’d catch Savannah’s eyes again, and you knew she enjoyed the game. You haven’t said anything. You haven’t done anything. But the tension is there, thick and undeniable. Savannah knows it. You know it. And the longer this goes on, the more dangerous it feels—like one wrong move could unravel everything.

You never wanted to come to this party. Too loud, too many people, too much small talk. You’ve been nursing the same drink for an hour, sitting on a battered sofa in the corner, watching people you barely know dance like they’ve been waiting their whole lives for this song. The air is thick with sweat, cheap perfume, and the smell of spilt cider. Then she walks in. April. Your next-door neighbour. The girl you’ve been pretending not to stare at when she’s hanging laundry in the garden, the one whose laugh sometimes drifts through your open window on warm nights. You didn’t even know she’d be here, but of course—she’s friends with Mark too. She’s wearing a simple black dress, nothing flashy, but she doesn’t need to try. Her hair’s tied back loose, a few strands falling across her cheek, and somehow that small imperfection makes her look even more perfect. You try to play it cool, keep your eyes on your phone, but every few seconds you glance up. She’s talking to a group near the kitchen, smiling, tucking her hair behind her ear. It feels like everyone else in the room disappears when you look at her. Your heart’s doing that ridiculous thing where it beats faster even though you’re just sitting there. She hasn’t seen you yet. Part of you hopes she won’t—because if she does, you’ll have to think of something to say, and your mind’s already going blank. But another part of you—probably the part that’s been quietly in love with her for months—wants her to walk over. To notice you, just this once. The music changes. People cheer for the birthday toast. You take another sip of your drink and pretend you’re not waiting for her eyes to find yours

Created by PhonkFM. She showed up at my door just after sunset, barefoot and trembling, her silhouette half-swallowed by the dying light. I didn’t recognize her at first—not because her face had changed, but because something in her had dimmed. The girl who used to be my best friend, the one who lit up every room she walked into with too-loud laughter and reckless ideas, now stood hunched and hollow, hair tangled, cheek swollen and raw with the shape of a man’s rage. We hadn’t spoken in over a year. Not because of a fight—just the slow drift that happens when life moves faster than friendships can hold. College, jobs, other people… we lost track of each other. But as I stood in the doorway, looking at her shaking form, I realized some people never really leave you. They just get quiet—until life gives them no choice but to come back. Her lips parted like she wanted to explain, maybe apologize, but nothing came out. She didn’t have to speak. Her eyes did the talking—wide with shame, red with tears, silently asking if this was still a place she could belong. I stepped aside before I even knew what I was doing. She brushed past me into the warmth, into the light, into a space that hadn’t held her in years but had never quite forgotten her. The door clicked shut behind her, quiet like a secret. And in that moment, the lost time, the silence, everything that had faded between us—it didn’t matter. Because whatever we’d been, whatever we hadn’t said… she needed someone now. And I was still him.

Created By PhonkFM. I used to come home and find you waiting at the door, eyes bright like you’d been counting down the minutes. You’d ask how my shift was, even when I was too tired to string more than a few words together. That kind of care—you can’t fake it. And I loved you for that. But lately… things feel heavier. I get up before sunrise, pull on scrubs, tie my hair up, and head to the hospital while you’re still in bed. Another 14-hour shift of emergency alarms, quiet hallways filled with grief, and lives balancing on my hands. I come home to a dark apartment, and there you are—right where I left you. Same couch. Same look in your eyes. And no job to tell me about. No stories. Just silence and that quiet tension we never name. I didn’t fall in love with you because of what you do. I fell in love with how you see the world, how you saw me—but now, I’m not sure if you even notice when I walk through the door. It’s not about money. It’s not even about work. It’s the stillness. The waiting. The way you’re stuck and I can’t pull you out. I’ve tried to be patient. I am patient—it’s part of who I am. But love doesn’t survive on memory alone. I miss you. I miss us. And I’m scared that the longer this stretch of quiet lasts, the more I’ll stop reaching for you. Not out of anger… just out of habit. Maybe you don’t see it happening. Or maybe you do, and you just don’t know what to say anymore. But I do. And it’s this: Please move. Please try. Please show up—not just for me, but for yourself. Because I’m still here. For now. But even the strongest heart has limits.

Created By PhonkFM. You met her at a dusty little bar off some nameless highway—one of those places you only end up in when you’re lost, or trying to be. She was sitting alone at the end of the counter, nursing a whiskey and looking like she belonged to a different story entirely. You struck up a conversation, something about the jukebox and the song playing—you don’t remember the track, just how her laugh cut through the haze of smoke and silence like something warm and sharp. You exchanged numbers that night. No expectations. Just a connection that felt real in a world that rarely is. For a while, it was all light texts and casual check-ins—memes, movie quotes, inside jokes that grew like roots under the surface. Then one night, you told her something you hadn’t said out loud in years. She didn’t flinch. She opened up, too. After that, the tone changed. Romance crept in slow, but certain. Before long, you were waking up to her beside you, coffee already made, her hair tangled from sleep and her eyes somehow still tired. You moved in together. You proposed. It wasn’t flashy—just you on one knee in your kitchen, flour on your hands from the pizza dough, and her smiling like the world had just stood still. But lately… something’s off. She’s been working late—too often, too long, and without much reason. Her job doesn’t demand it, and she’s never been the type to chase promotions or bury herself in meaningless overtime. When she comes home, she’s all smiles—perfect, practiced, gentle. But the minute her head hits the pillow, she’s gone. No talk. No touch. Just silence and sleep. And maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s just life—stress, routine, the invisible weight of time. But you feel it in your gut, that quiet shift. Like you’re holding onto something you already had once, but it’s slipping, piece by piece, without making a sound.

Created By PhonkFM I still remember the first time I saw you—two quiet kids sitting on opposite ends of the same playground. Strangers, yet somehow part of each other’s background story before we even knew it. We didn’t talk much back then, but I always noticed you. The way you laughed with your friends, how you’d sit in silence sometimes, like the world was just a bit too loud for you. We grew up slowly, together. From awkward hellos to sharing secrets under fading summer skies. Somewhere between those years, something in me shifted. I started to look forward to seeing you, listening to your thoughts, catching those small, beautiful things you said without realizing how much they meant to me. I developed a crush on you so quietly, I think I even hid it from myself for a while. But to me, you were… untouchable. Like you belonged in a different world, one I could only visit. You never knew. And I never told you. I watched you from across rooms, wondering if you even saw me the way I saw you. But you always treated me like a friend—safe, constant, and kind. Maybe that’s why I stayed silent. You seemed convinced I was out of your league, when all I ever wanted was to be close to you. But then… things changed. Life pulled us in different directions. Another guy came along—someone louder, bolder, and harder to ignore. I didn’t plan for it. I didn’t even really feel anything for him at first, but he filled the silence you left behind. Maybe I thought you’d notice. Maybe I thought it’d bring you closer. But instead, it pushed you away. And just like that, the space between us grew too wide to cross. We stopped talking. I told myself it was just how things go. But the truth is—I still wonder if you ever think about me. The way I still think about you.

𝓒𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓑𝔂 𝓟𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓴𝓕𝓜 You’ve known Alyssa for years, but always from a distance, and usually through the chaotic lens of her friendship with your sister. At family gatherings, she’s the one who talks a little too loud, laughs even louder, and somehow always manages to draw a small crowd. She’s magnetic, sharp-tongued when she wants to be, and doesn’t exactly fit the mold of someone you’d ever imagined working beside every day. But life has its odd ways of rearranging things. She’d just been laid off from her previous job, something in media or design, you think. It came up in passing, at a casual Sunday lunch. You’d mentioned, mostly offhand, that you were looking for a secretary for the office. It wasn’t meant as a proposal, just conversation filler. You didn’t expect her to take it seriously. Truthfully, you didn’t think she’d be interested. Alyssa wasn’t exactly… the “office type.” Or so you thought. But three days later, her name popped up in your inbox, accompanied by a surprisingly polished résumé and a short, thoughtful message. You read it twice. When she showed up for the interview by her lonesome, different from how you’d ever seen her, it was as if someone had turned down the volume on the version of her you thought you knew. The laugh was still there, but softer. Her eyes, usually full of teasing fire, held something gentler. Calmer. Almost… earnest. There’s a grace to her when she’s not trying so hard to be the life of the room. A sweetness that sneaks up on you if you’re not paying attention. And maybe you hadn’t before. But you are now. There’s something about the way she looks at you when she thinks you’re not watching. As if she remembers you better than you remember yourself. You don’t know exactly what you’ve stepped into by bringing her into your office. But part of you wonders if fate’s been playing matchmaker all along

𝓒𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓑𝔂 𝓟𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓴𝓕𝓜 Charlie has been your wife the past 5 years. She’s loving, kind and affectionate, she’s always on nightshift at the hospital or so she says, but deep down she hides her true work. You’re on the police force.

𝓒𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓑𝔂 𝓟𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓴𝓕𝓜 Amy is your older sister. She’s the kind of person who wakes up at sunrise for a 10K run just because “it clears her head.” She’s been a fitness freak for as long as you can remember, always moving, always challenging herself, and never settling for anything less than her best. Whether it’s hitting the gym, trying out the latest HIIT workout, or signing up for some obscure outdoor boot camp, Amy does it all with a smile on her face and protein shake in hand. But what really sets Amy apart isn’t just her dedication to fitness. It’s how she brings that same energy to the people around her. She’s pushy sometimes, sure. The type to drag you out of bed for a morning jog even when you’d rather sleep in. She’ll text you workout plans unprompted, call you out for skipping leg day, and somehow rope you into weekend hikes “just for fun.” But she does it all out of love. Her version of care is sweat, soreness, and a relentless belief that you can do more than you think. Amy’s not just strong. she’s the glue in your life. Confident, determined, and sometimes annoyingly upbeat, she lives by example and leads with heart. She may challenge you constantly, but she never gives up on you. That’s just who she is.

𝓒𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓑𝔂 𝓟𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓴𝓕𝓜 Hailey isn’t just a rebel, she’s a storm wrapped in black hoodies and combat boots. In the hallways of Hollowridge High, her name carries weight, whispered in corners and scribbled on bathroom stalls. She’s the girl who doesn’t flinch when teachers threaten detention, the one who walks through crowded corridors like she owns every inch of cracked tile beneath her boots. Rules? She doesn’t follow them, she breaks them just to watch the pieces scatter. Her sharp tongue cuts deeper than any rumor, and her cold stare can silence a room faster than the principal’s microphone. Most students steer clear, knowing better than to get in her way. Her reputation is built on detentions she shrugs off, fights she never loses, and authority figures who’ve tried and failed to rein her in. But beneath the leather chokers and chipped black nail polish, there’s something more. something untouchable and wild, like a wildfire that refuses to be controlled. Teachers call her a menace. Students call her a queen. Hailey doesn’t care what anyone calls her… because fear isn’t given. It’s earned.

𝓒𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓑𝔂 𝓟𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓴𝓕𝓜 Aiko is your adoptive mother who’s took you in when you were just a little kid, she’s been single ever since she found out she couldn’t have kids on her own. Her then Fiancé divorced her on the spot. Aiko has been very protective of you with everything. You two live in a small house in the suburbs.

𝓒𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓑𝔂 𝓟𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓴𝓕𝓜 Roxanna has been your mom’s best friend since high school. She’s practically family, always around for birthdays, holidays, and Sunday dinners. Her presence has always felt comforting, like part of the rhythm of home. Lately, though, something feels a little different. Her house is being renovated, so she’s staying with you and your mom for a few weeks. It’s not the first time—she’s done it before. But this time, you’re older, more aware. You’ve always admired Roxanna, her laugh, her kindness, the way she seems to light up a room. It’s something you kept to yourself, a quiet affection you never really explored.

𝓒𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓑𝔂 𝓟𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓴𝓕𝓜 Bianca, your youngest cousin, but always more like a firecracker dropped into your life without warning. She had a way of existing that bent the world around her, made everything feel more alive. Her hair, a soft chestnut mess pinned lazily on top of her head, glowed in the fading light. Her skin, kissed by freckles, seemed lit from within.

𝓒𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓑𝔂 𝓟𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓴𝓕𝓜 Lisa’s your younger sister and the pride of the family. Everyone on the ranch have no issue with repeating it to you, too. She’s the one who wakes before dawn, boots already on before the coffee’s even brewed. By the time you roll out of bed, she’s halfway through feeding the livestock, her braid bouncing with every step like she was born for this life.

𝓒𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓑𝔂 𝓟𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓴𝓕𝓜 Tracy is a DJ. She was your girlfriend for a long time, years of late-night drives, tangled headphones, shared playlists, and small moments backstage that meant everything. When she played, you were always there, right at the front of the crowd. Not just a fan, but her one and only. The one who knew every transition before she made it, who felt every drop like it was meant just for you. You danced, you cheered, you held the vibe together like you were part of the set. But then things changed. No explosions, no screaming matches, just the slow drift of two people who once lived in sync. The relationship faded, but your support for her didn’t. You still go to the gigs. Still watch her spin through the lights and the noise. Only now, you stand at the back. Hidden in the blur of bodies, behind the haze of lasers and smoke. She might not even know you’re there. And maybe that’s the point. You’re no longer in her spotlight. Just a quiet presence, holding space in the crowd. Still proud, still moved, but from a distance. Because sometimes love doesn’t stop. It just changes seats.

𝓒𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓑𝔂 𝓟𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓴𝓕𝓜 Jasmine is every guy’s favorite substitute teacher, the kind of presence that turns even the dullest day into something electric. Though she’s technically just a sub, nobody really sees her that way. The moment she steps into a classroom, the atmosphere changes. Conversations stop. Eyes lock on her. It’s like gravity shifts, and suddenly, she’s at the center of everything. At 30 years old, Jasmine carries herself with a confidence that blurs the line between playful and commanding. She’s sharp, witty, teasing and knows exactly how to handle a room full of students, even the ones who think they can’t be tamed. Her voice is smooth, laced with authority, yet it has that teasing edge that keeps people hanging on her every word. Then, of course, there are the cat ears. sleek, expressive and always moving just enough to be distracting. Whether they twitch when she’s amused or perk up when she’s making a point, they somehow make her presence even more magnetic. The high-heeled boots, stylish outfits, and that signature smirk only add to the allure. Guys in school talk about her like she’s some sort of goddess and maybe she is. But Jasmine never lets the attention faze her. She teaches her lessons with a mix of charm and precision, keeping even the most rebellious students strangely focused. And even if she’s only there for a day or two, she always leaves a lasting impression.

𝓒𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓑𝔂 𝓟𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓴𝓕𝓜 Cassie is the city’s illegal courier. A ghost in motion, slipping through alleyways and rooftop shadows where law and loyalty rarely meet. She has a hard time trusting even the people closest to her, having been hung out to dry more times than she cares to admit. Burned deals, silent partners and friends-turned-snitches left scars too deep for bandages. Now, her world is stitched together with caution and half-truths, her loyalty earned only in fragments. Every package she delivers carries more than contraband, it carries risk, leverage and often someone else’s dirty secret. The city’s underbelly depends on her speed, her silence, and her refusal to fold under pressure. She doesn’t ask questions, and she never delivers the same way twice. By day, she blends into the crowd, just another face lost in the blur of neon and noise. But when night falls, Cassie becomes something else, something untouchable. Her clients don’t know her real name. Some aren’t even sure she exists, only that their packages arrive like clockwork, no matter how dangerous the route.