Continue... 3 — The Shift

The shift didn’t begin with anything dramatic.

No argument. No outburst. No shattering moment.

Just a pattern.

A small one.

A missed dinner with Kai. A rescheduled call. A hesitant mention that she “just needed some time to breathe.”

But Arden noticed.

The Echo noticed more.

The next few days blurred into an uneasy rhythm. Arden tried not to watch Selene’s messages too closely, but each one arrived with an undertone she couldn’t ignore…

“Rain check?”

“Long day. Think I’ll stay in tonight.”

“…I’m fine. Just tired.”

When Selene came by on the third night, her smile was warm but… shallow. Like she was holding something carefully in place.

She sat on the edge of Arden’s couch, untouched tea cooling between her palms.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Selene murmured. “Every time we try to talk about weekend plans, I just… freeze. It’s stupid.”

The Echo stirred in Arden’s pocket—a faint, pulsing flicker of muted rose.

Anxiety.

Not Arden’s, Selene’s.

Arden didn’t activate anything. She didn’t need to.

The Echo resonated on its own, soft and instinctive, like a tuning fork answering a distant sound.

Selene pressed a hand to her stomach, saying, “See? Even thinking about it makes me feel—ugh. Tight. Wrong.”

Arden forced her voice into neutrality.

“Did something happen between you two?” Arden asked.

“No,” Selene said quickly. Too quickly. “No, Kai’s fine. Kai’s always fine.”

The Echo shimmered blue at that—subdued calm, shifting as Selene looked at Arden.

She didn’t rely on the device. She didn’t tell it to respond. It simply did.

Selene exhaled shakily and leaned back.

“God, I’m sorry. I didn’t come here to dump this on you,” Selene said softly.

“You’re not dumping anything,” Arden said softly.

But Selene shook her head, adding, “I shouldn’t be so… emotional. It’s not fair to you.”

Yet she didn’t leave.

And every time she said Kai’s name, the Echo gave a faint, sickly twist of rose—the kind that made Selene wince and rub at her ribs.

Arden told herself it was coincidence. Residual resonance from the last reading. A miscalibration she would fix later.

But she recognized the pattern and hated that she recognized it.

A memory stirred—Mara’s voice with its cool assurance:

“When two tones resonate, the weaker always wavers. It’s not control, Arden. It’s physics.”

Arden shut the memory out.

Selene stayed until dusk, apologizing for her “irrational moodiness,” completely unaware of the tangle of blue and gold that brightened whenever she leaned into Arden.

When she left, she looked lighter.

Relieved.

And Arden looked shaken.

Later that night, Arden sat at her desk, files scattered like fallen leaves. Kessell’s old logs flickered on her screen—fragments salvaged from the lab raid, half-corrupted but still full of that eerie, clinical calm.

AVERSIVE IMPRINT DRIFT—SUBJECTIVE SIDE EFFECTS EXPECTED.

DISPLACED AFFECT STATES MAY PRESENT AS MISDIRECTED FEELINGS.

STABILIZING PRESENCE ESSENTIAL. SUBJECT WILL SEEK ANCHOR.

Arden rested her forehead against her palms. She didn’t want to read it.

She couldn’t stop.

Kessell’s later notes cut sharper:

“The subject will seek stability. Provide it, and they will bond to you.”

Arden’s breath caught. She whispered the line aloud before she realized her lips had moved.

“The subject will seek stability…”

Her stomach twisted. This wasn’t a protocol she wanted to follow. But the words dug at something deep in her mind—something Mara had laid down years before, something that hummed like an old scar reacting to weather.

She slammed the laptop shut.In the dark, the Echo pulsed once—soft, questioning.

Arden didn’t answer.

Three more days passed.

Selene visited almost every evening now. Always with a laugh or a sigh, always with some excuse to stop by:

“I was in the neighborhood.”

“I needed a walk.”

“I didn’t want to be home yet.”

Each time, the Echo responded to her proximity like a living thing awakening—blue warming into calm, gold into trust, faint rose signals flickering and fading depending on Selene’s mood.

Arden stopped pretending she didn’t notice.

Selene curled up on Arden’s couch more comfortably than before, legs tucked under her, head drifting onto Arden’s shoulder with no hesitation.

“I don’t know what it is,” Selene murmured one night. “Whenever I’m with you I feel… stable. Is that weird?”

Arden swallowed. The Sensory Echo pulsed.

“It’s not weird.”

But Selene smiled up at her—soft, relieved, glowing with something that looked dangerously like dependence.

And the Echo answered with a pulse of warm gold.

Arden’s chest tightened, as she said, “Selene, I don’t want you to feel like you have to lean on me so much.”

“I don’t have to,” Selene said simply. “I want to.”

Arden’s breath hitched.

The Echo hummed in agreement.

* * *

It happened on a quiet evening, rain ticking lightly against the windows.

Selene sat closest yet—hip pressed to Arden’s, her hands twisting in restless loops. Her engagement ring flashed dully under the lamp.

“Arden… Can I tell you something without you judging me?”

Arden turned toward her, softly saying, “Of course.”

Selene stared down at her fingers. “When I think of Kai lately, I feel sick. Actually sick. Like something’s wrong with me.”

The Echo flared rose—sharp, distressed.

Selene winced. Saying, “See? Even talking about it—”

Arden reached for her hand before she thought about it.

The moment their skin touched, the Echo shifted—blue swelling outward like a breath held, then released.

Selene’s shoulders slumped in relief.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t feel this way.”

Arden hesitated.

She didn’t want to repeat the patterns in Kessell’s notes.

She didn’t want to echo Mara.

But Selene leaned closer, desperate for grounding, for warmth.

And the Echo—traitorous, responsive, alive—welcomed her with blue and gold weaving together in a slow, steady rhythm.

Selene’s voice trembled.

“I feel safe with you. You always make me feel safe,” Selene replied.

Arden’s heart twisted.

“Selene… maybe you’re just stressed. Wedding planning is overwhelming,” Arden offered.

“No,” Selene said softly. “It’s not that. It’s him. Every time he asks about venues or guest lists, I feel like I’m trapped. But when you…”

She swallowed.

“When you’re near me, everything aligns,” Selene said.

Arden froze. That word.

Aligned.

The Echo warmed, it was never fully off and always active, almost pleased.

Selene looked up at her, eyes glassy, pleading, “Tell me what’s wrong with me.”

Arden shook her head, voice barely steady, reassuring, “Nothing’s wrong with you. You’re overwhelmed. Anyone would be.”

Selene exhaled shakily, leaning into Arden until their foreheads touched.

And the Echo responded with one long, resonant pulse of gold—trust deepening, widening, rooting.

Selene’s breath hitched,“Don’t pull away. Please.”

Arden didn’t.

She couldn’t.

The Echo’s glow invisibly washed over the room, soft and steady.

And Selene’s trembling eased.

* * *

The changes were subtle at first.

A missed text. Late for dinner with Kai.

A “sorry, can’t talk right now,” that stretched into silence.

Selene came to Arden’s apartment more frequently. Sometimes twice a day.

“I just needed air.”

“I needed quiet.”

“I needed you.”

Arden tried to tell herself she wasn’t encouraging it.

But the Echo responded to Selene no matter what Arden did—calming her when she approached, flaring rose or gold depending on what she said, amplifying little emotional currents.

Currents Selene didn’t even notice she gave off.

Selene brought Arden food unasked.

Insisted on helping with her job searches.

Sent messages throughout the day checking on her.

And if Arden didn’t respond quickly, Selene’s next message would be brittle around the edges:

“Are you okay?”

“Did something happen?”

“I’m coming over.”

Arden was frightened by how genuine Selene’s concern looked.

By how natural it felt.

This wasn’t obedience. It wasn’t programming.

It was resonance—unpredictable, powerful—magnifying something Selene already felt before the Echo ever existed.

Arden told herself that over and over. It didn’t help.

* * *

It happened late one night as Arden sifted through another corrupted folder of Kessell’s notes.

Buried in one of the logs, she found a reference to Primary Subject A.

Pulse patterns.

Compliance markers.

Emotional susceptibility rates.

Training techniques.

The descriptions hit like a blow.

It was her.

Every metric.

Every reaction.

Every flaw and strength catalogued with cold precision.

Mara hadn’t chosen her because she was talented.

Mara had built her.

Layered her.

Conditioned her.

Arden pressed her palm against her mouth until her hand shook.

She remembered Mara’s smile. Soft.

Almost fond. Flash…

“Good girl, Arden. You follow patterns beautifully.”

A shudder tore through her.

She couldn’t breathe.

And the Echo—on the desk beside her—gave a faint, sympathetic pulse of blue.

As though it recognized her distress.

As though it remembered her training too.

* * *

The next morning, Selene arrived early—eyes red, voice raw.

“Arden,” she whispered, stepping inside without waiting. “Something’s wrong.”

Arden reached for her instinctively, asking sincerely, “What happened?”

Selene shook her head, tears gathering.

“I tried to talk to Kai last night. I told him I needed a pause. Just a short one. He didn’t even get angry—he just looked confused. Hurt,” Selene confessed as she wiped her cheeks. “And the second he did, I felt like I was drowning.”

The Echo pulsed rose—overwhelmed, jagged.

Selene gasped at the sensation, pressing a hand to her chest.

“There it is again. I can’t…” Selene said in a staggered breath. “I can’t breathe when I think about going back.”

Arden steadied her shoulders, and said, “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Selene tipped forward, burying her face against Arden’s collarbone. “Why do I feel like this?”

“I don’t know,” Arden whispered. “But I’m here. You’re not alone.”

Selene clung to her—gripping hard, trembling harder.

Slowly, slowly, the Echo reacted—softening from rose to blue as Selene pressed closer. The anxiety ebbed. The calm deepened.

Selene’s breathing steadied. And when she finally looked up, her eyes were clear.

Steady.

Focused entirely on Arden.

“I don’t feel safe with him,” Selene whispered. “I feel safe with you.”

Arden’s heart fractured.

“I don’t want anything from you,” Arden murmured. “I don’t want you to change your whole life because of me.”

Selene shook her head.

“I’m not changing because of you. I’m…” she said slowly, “Remembering myself. And you’re the only person who feels right.”

Arden exhaled a trembling breath.

Because deep down, in the place where Mara’s conditioning lived like faint scars under the skin, it felt true.

Like a pattern completing itself.

The Echo pulsed gold—trust, warmth, belonging—glowing softly between them.

Selene didn’t see it.

Arden did.

And she understood the shift had already happened—not through intention, not through control, but through resonance neither of them fully understood.

Selene held Arden’s face in her hands, tears drying on her cheeks.

“Please don’t leave me,” Selene whispered. “You’re the only place I still feel… whole.”

Arden wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close, resting her chin against Selene’s hair.

“I’m here,” she murmured.

The Echo glowed warmly at her hip.

For a moment, Arden felt the unmistakable ghost of Mara’s voice behind her ear:

“Bonding is not domination, Arden. It is simply the inevitable shape of proximity.”

Arden closed her eyes.

Held Selene tighter.

And felt the shift settle—quiet, deep, and irrevocable.

Arden waited until Selene’s taillights vanished down the narrow street before she let the apartment fall fully silent. The Echo sat on the table where she’d left it—still humming faintly, a dissonant thread beneath the quiet. She could feel its pull even when it wasn’t pulsing, the way someone might notice a high-pitched tone at the edge of hearing.

The device had been out of sight all evening. Selene had been warm, relaxed, leaning against Arden on the couch while ranting about wedding logistics she didn’t enjoy. None of that was Echo-induced. Arden knew that. But feelings didn’t care about technical distinctions, and Selene’s warmth lingered now like static on Arden’s skin.

She exhaled and opened the casing.

The Echo flickered immediately—soft light blooming in slow concentric waves. Tonight the glow was a muted gradient of amber and blue, the colors Kessell’s notes had described as trust stabilizing with emotional searching. Arden told herself she wasn’t reading too much into it. But she also knew she was lying.

“Recalibrate,” she murmured, sliding the tool beneath the inner panel.

Already the colors began shifting in response to her voice alone.

Blue deepening.

Amber brightening.

A soft thrum pulsed from the device, like a heartbeat synced to something outside herself.

Arden swallowed.

She shouldn’t be doing this while she was still feeling the imprint of Selene’s goodbye hug—the warmth at her shoulder, Selene’s breath shaky with exhaustion against her ear.

“You always make me feel calm,” Selene had whispered before leaving. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Arden hadn’t known how to respond. So she’d just held her, feeling the Echo’s silent resonance somewhere behind her, mirroring emotions she hadn’t meant to amplify.

“Alright,” she whispered. “Let’s fix you before you fix anything else.”

The core’s field wavered as she adjusted the frequency threads—meant to be a simple stability correction, nothing emotional. But the Echo responded like it always did: with an almost human awareness, like Mara’s voice still lived inside the circuitry. Arden hated that thought, hated how her fingertips trembled remembering Mara’s approving tone.

“Good. You’re learning to listen to it.

Good girl.”

Arden’s stomach tightened. She pushed the memory down hard.

The Echo steadied. Its glow sharpened into a slow swirl of silver with faint gold flecks—a blend associated with grounding, reassurance, interpersonal bonding. Arden wasn’t activating anything. This was only feedback. Data. That’s what she told herself.

But when it hummed again, the sound vibrated through her ribs like it recognized Selene’s presence even though she was gone.

Arden snapped the casing closed.

“Enough,” she muttered. “You’re stable.”

But the Echo pulsed one more time—gentle, warm—almost a sigh.

Arden stepped back, hands braced on the table. Her breath shook.

* * *

Selene showed up at Arden’s door at 9:13 a.m. without warning, clutching a cardboard tray of lattes like it was a peace offering.

“I know, I know, it’s early,” she blurted, cheeks flushed. “I just… wanted to check on you. After last night.”

Arden blinked, responding, “You don’t have to check on me.”

“I want to,” Selene said quickly. Too quickly. “I want to make sure you’re okay. You were there for me.”

Her eyes flicked briefly to Arden’s shoulder, remembering where her head had rested. Arden stepped aside to let her in, fighting the strange flutter in her chest. The Echo remained off, tucked on a high shelf—but as Selene entered, Arden could have sworn the air shifted, warmed.

As if the device sensed her again.

Selene sat at the counter, fidgeting with her cup lid.

“I was thinking,” she said slowly, “if you need help organizing your research stuff—or, I don’t know, if your apartment needs anything—I could help.”

“Selene…” Arden’s voice softened. “You don’t need to do tasks for me.”

“I want to,” she said again, fingers tightening slightly. “I feel… better here. Like I’m doing something that matters. Like you steady me.”

The room felt too small. Arden kept her breathing even. This wasn’t the Echo speaking through her; these were Selene’s words—quiet, tentative, true. And yet the Echo’s resonance from the night before clung to Arden’s mind, making every syllable feel heavier, warmer.

Arden sat beside her.

“I’m here for you. But you can’t revolve your life around me,” Arden confessed.

Selene’s eyes flickered with something wounded and earnest.

“I know. I just… I want to be useful,” Selene said. “I want to make things easier for you. After everything you lost.”

Her voice cracked on that last word.

Instinctively, Arden reached over and squeezed her hand.

The moment their skin touched, Selene exhaled shakily—and Arden felt it too: a soft, grounding warmth blooming in her chest, unmistakable and gentle, the Echo’s emotional resonance echoing between them even though it was silent on its shelf.

Selene closed her eyes.

“There it is,” she whispered. “That feeling… I don’t know what it is. But being around you just… settles me.”

Arden swallowed.

“It’s just familiarity. Comfort,” Arden reasoned.

But Selene shook her head.

“No. It’s more than that…” Selene admitted.

Arden didn’t answer.

“I’ll be back tonight, movie night, ok?” Selene says not as a question.

“I’ll be here,” Arden answered.

“I know, you’re always here,” Selene responded.

* * *

They’re halfway through the movie when it happened.

Watching a lightweight romantic comedy—two women circling each other through misunderstandings and soft confessions. Selene had chosen it deliberately, claiming she wanted something “easy.”

They’re on the couch, legs tucked together, a shared blanket pulled over them more out of habit than necessity. Arden is aware—acutely—of Selene’s warmth, the steady rhythm of her breathing, the way she keeps inching closer during quieter scenes.

The Sensory Echo rested dormant.

Not ever overly active. But listening.

On screen, one character finally leans in. The kiss is gentle, tentative, charged with relief more than desire.

Selene exhales.

“I love that part,” she murmurs, almost to herself.

Arden hums noncommittally. “You always do.”

Selene shifts. Arden feels the movement before she sees it—the subtle turn of Selene’s shoulders, the hesitation that vibrates through her like a held breath.

Selene’s fingers brush Arden’s wrist.

The Echo stirs.

A faint warmth blooms—gold threading through blue. Affection brushing calm.

Selene doesn’t look at the screen anymore.

“Arden,” she says softly.

Arden turns.

Selene is closer than Arden expects. Close enough to see the uncertainty in her eyes, the nervous resolve beneath it.

“I’ve been wanting to—” Selene stops, swallows. “I don’t know. I just—”

She leans in.

The kiss is brief. Careful. Lips touching, then lingering just long enough to ask a question rather than make a statement.

Arden doesn’t pull away.

The moment stretches.

The Echo responds—not with force, but recognition. Gold brightens. Blue steadies. A low harmonic hum settles under Arden’s ribs, translating the contact into data: trust offered, closeness accepted, calm reinforced.

Selene’s breath catches.

When Arden kisses back, it’s gentle—measured, grounding. A response rather than an escalation.

Selene makes a soft, surprised sound and pulls back half an inch, searching Arden’s face.

“I’m sorry,” she blurts. “I shouldn’t have— I just—”

Arden lifts a hand, rests it lightly at Selene’s waist.

The Echo deepens its reading.

Touch paired with reassurance.

Selene stills instantly.

The room stayed quiet long after the kiss broke. The movie kept playing, but neither of them looked at it.

Selene clung to Arden’s sleeve with trembling fingers, as if afraid that if she let go, the moment would dissolve and she’d wake somewhere else—somewhere colder, lonelier.

Arden swallowed thickly.

She could still feel the warmth of Selene’s mouth, the soft, startled sound she’d made when their lips first met.

“Selene,” she whispered, “look at me.”

Selene hesitated—but lifted her eyes.

They were wide. Uncertain. Shining.

Arden felt something inside her twist painfully.

The Echo—silent, dormant—glimmered faintly on the shelf, as though tasting the emotion in the air.

“Tell me what that was,” Arden said, voice soft but steady.

Selene drew a breath, but it caught in her chest.

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

Arden touched her jaw gently, guiding her eyes back up when she tried to look away.

“Yes,” Arden murmured, “you do.”

Selene’s lower lip trembled.

“I shouldn’t feel this,” she whispered, voice breaking. “I’m engaged. I have a whole life planned

out. I should be thinking about venues or flowers or— or anything except—”

She stopped.

Arden waited.

Selene’s shoulders sagged as if the truth had weight.

“Except you,” she said finally. “I keep thinking about you.”

Arden exhaled, slow and careful.

“Say it plainly.”

Selene shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Yes,” Arden said quietly, “you can.”

Something in her tone—steady, calm, unyielding—made Selene shiver.

She curled inward for a moment, hugging herself as though trying to hold the pieces together.

Arden didn’t touch her this time. She waited. Let Selene feel the silence. Let Selene feel her.

“When I kissed you, it didn’t feel wrong.” Selene finally whispered, barely audible:

Arden’s breath hitched. Selene squeezed her eyes shut.

“It felt like—like I’ve wanted to do it for a long time,” Selene said.

Arden shifted closer until their knees brushed.

“What else?” she asked gently.

Selene inhaled shakily.

“I feel… drawn to you,” she admitted. “All the time. When I’m near you, I feel calm. When I’m not…” She shook her head.

“I feel off-balance. Like I’m missing something,” Selene admitted.

Arden’s chest tightened.

“And your fiancé?” Arden asked quietly.

Selene flinched.

“That’s the part that scares me. When I think about him, I feel… wrong,” Selene admitted. “Tense. Guilty. Like something inside me is twisting the wrong direction.”

Her hand drifted to her sternum, pressing lightly.

“But when I think of you,” Selene continued, breathing out slowly, “it feels like everything lines up.”

Arden felt a tremor run through Selene at her own confession.

“You needed to say that,” Arden murmured.

Selene’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Why does it feel like you already knew?” Selene asked.

Arden swallowed.

“Because I see you, Selene. Every shift. Every hesitation. Every moment you look at me like you’re trying not to feel something,” Arden assured.

Selene blinked fast, tears gathering.

“Arden…”

“You’re not hurting me by being honest,” Arden said softly. “You’re hurting yourself by pretending nothing’s changing.”

Selene covered her mouth with her hand, as though trying to trap the truth inside.

Arden gently took her wrist and lowered it.

“Say it,” Arden whispered. “Say what you’re feeling.”

Selene stared at her for a long, uneven moment—eyes searching Arden’s, looking for any sign of judgment or rejection. She found none.

Her resolve broke.

“I think I’m falling for you,” she whispered. “And I don’t know what to do.”

Arden’s heart clenched.

She leaned in until their foreheads touched, Selene’s breath trembling across her lips.

“You did good,” Arden whispered.

A soft, involuntary sound escaped Selene—half-relief, half longing.

Arden’s fingers slid through her hair.

“You told the truth,” Arden added.

Selene’s hands tightened in Arden’s shirt, the confession shaking out of her like something that had been waiting years to escape.

“I’m scared,” she murmured.

“I know,” Arden whispered back. “But you’re not alone.”

Selene pressed closer, clutching Arden, seeking warmth, seeking certainty.

“And,” Arden murmured into her hair, “you’re a good girl for being honest.”

Selene trembled—breath hitching, cheeks flushing, something deep and tender blooming in her expression.

Not compulsion.

Not programming.

Just emotion: raw, overwhelming, unfiltered.

She leaned in again, brushing her lips against Arden’s cheek in a trembling, tentative gesture—half apology, half desire.

“Please don’t pull away,” Selene whispered.

Arden closed her eyes, saying, “I won’t.”

They stayed like that—breathing each other in—unspoken truths thick in the quiet room, the glow from the muted TV flickering across their entwined silhouettes.

Selene didn’t pull away after the words left her lips.

If anything, she leaned in closer, breath warm against Arden’s collarbone, fingers curling gently in the fabric of her shirt as if centering herself.

Arden stroked her hair once — slow, hesitant, unable to help it.

Selene whispered into her shoulder, voice trembling but certain:

“Arden… Can I tell you something without you thinking I’m crazy?”

Arden’s hand stilled, then cupped the back of Selene’s head.

“Anything,” she breathed.

Selene exhaled shakily.

“It feels good to do things for you,” the successful businesswoman and influencer admitted.

Arden’s pulse kicked hard.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” Selene lifted her head, cheeks pink and eyes shining in the soft light. “When I got your drink… when I helped you clean up last week… when I check on you about jobs and everything—”

She swallowed.

“I feel… right. Like I’m helping someone who matters to me. Like I’m—” She said hesitatingly, voice thinning. “—taking care of you.”

The words landed between them with a weight that pulled Arden’s breath from her chest.

“Selene…” Arden tried, but Selene kept going, words tumbling out finally, freely:

“And when you said ‘good girl’ earlier—” Selene began, as her face burned. “I don’t know why, but it made everything inside me feel warm. Safe. Like I could breathe again.”

Arden blinked, heart hammering.

Selene’s voice dropped to a whisper- “I felt… loved. And grounded. And excited. All at once.”

Arden’s fingers tightened slightly in her hair — instinct, reaction, need.

But she forced her voice to stay steady.

“That feeling,” she murmured, “is from you. Not me. Not anything I did.”

She tilted Selene’s chin until their eyes met.

“You wanted to feel that way. That’s why it happened,” Arden instructed.

Selene nodded, swallowing hard.

“I know,” she whispered. “I know it’s mine. I know I chose it. But I feel like—”

Her breath hitched.

“—like being close to you helps me be the version of myself I like. Someone warm. Someone useful. Someone… good.”

Arden’s chest ached so sharply she had to inhale slowly to steady herself.

“That’s not all,” Arden murmured gently. “Tell me the rest.”

Selene’s lashes fluttered.

Then, quieter:

“I want to do things for you because you make me feel safe.” Selene said. “And because it feels like… like you see me. Really see me. It feels right..”

Her eyes filled, not with sadness but with the overwhelming relief of speaking something buried too long.

“And when you call me ‘good girl,’ it feels like you mean it,” Selene said, eyes down. “Like I deserve it.”

Arden felt the room sway faintly around her.

The Echo on the shelf remained distant, but she could feel the emotional gravity pulling between them — raw and honest, and frightening because it was real.

“Selene,” Arden said softly, brushing her cheek with her thumb, “you don’t need to earn affection from me.”

Selene leaned into the touch like she’d been starved of it.

“I know,” she whispered. “But I want to give it. To you.”

Arden exhaled slowly.

“What kind of things?” she asked, voice quiet.

Selene blinked, surprised she wasn’t being rejected.

“Little things,” she said. “Helping you with errands. Checking in on you. Bringing you dinner when you forget to eat. Being here when you’re lonely.”

Her voice faltered, then steadied.

“I want to be someone who makes your life easier.”

Arden’s throat tightened.

“And why does that matter so much to you?” she asked.

Selene’s answer came without hesitation now — clear, vulnerable, painfully sincere:

“Because when I do, and you look at me like I’ve done something right…” She shivered, cheeks flaming. “...I feel like the world makes sense.”

Arden closed her eyes for just a moment.

When she opened them, Selene was watching her with such open, earnest longing that it hit her like a physical force.

Arden leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Selene’s forehead.

“Good girl,” she whispered, this time deliberately gentle, deliberately kind.

Selene didn’t gasp.

She didn’t melt.

She simply let out a soft, trembling breath — like Arden had given her permission to exist exactly as she felt.

And she whispered, “Say it again?”

Arden brushed her thumb along Selene’s jaw, voice low and warm.

“You’re such a good girl, Selene.”

Selene’s eyes fluttered, her body relaxing against Arden’s fully now, her head fitting beneath

Arden’s chin like it had always belonged there.

Arden uncoupled from Selene, taking her hands in her own.

“A test, Selene,” Arden said, pulling away from her model friend.

“Test?” Selene questioned.

“Kneel for me.”

Selene never hesitated, dropping to her knees, staring at the feet of Arden. Waiting,

“Good girl, Selene,” Arden praised. “You want to do anything for me, don’t you?”

“Yess…” she replied, her blonde hair cascading across her face as she stared downward.

“You won’t just do anything, Selene,” Arden replied, lifting the kneeling beauty’s chin with her finger to look at her. “You will do everything I tell you to…”

The echo hummed a variety of colors.

Arden leaned down and kissed Selene, who kissed back feverishly as she felt arousal as she never had before.

Arden broke the kiss. Selene gazed upward.

“Is this what you want? If it is, tell me to continue, like a good girl…” Arden said emphatically.

Selene, trembling with emotion, looked at Arden longingly.

“Please….” the business woman and socialite said softly.

“Continue…”