Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Caitlyn Lanes-Kiramman, Piltover’s youngest seated councilor, woke up alone. No surprise there. She shifted, turning her head just enough to glance at the other side of the bed, where the only proof that Vi had been there at all was the way the sheets were still tangled, creased in a shape that didn’t belong to her. A sigh slipped out before she could stop it. Whatever.

She pushed the blankets off and sat at the edge of the bed, hands braced against the mattress, waiting for her mind to fully catch up to her body. The room was quiet—too quiet—but that was how mornings always were. Just her, the stillness, and the weight of another day waiting to begin.

After a moment, she reached for her phone, scrolling through her schedule, eyes skimming over the list without really reading it at first. Eleven o’clock—council meeting. Trade laws, economy, more revisions. Boring, but necessary. Two in the afternoon—criminal hearing. Some corrupt enforcer finally being held accountable. And then—five o’clock—her lawyer, Mel Medarda.

That last one hadn’t been on the schedule before. Mel had called yesterday, voice careful, saying they needed to meet. Something important. Something about Caitlyn’s marriage.

Her thumb brushed over her wedding ring, slow and absent, before she even realized what she was doing. The band was beautiful—crafted by one of Piltover’s finest jewelers, a true work of art. Vi had insisted on handling the rings herself, shutting down Caitlyn’s parents before they could even offer. Said she didn’t need their money, didn’t want their generosity touching something that was supposed to belong to them.

It was like that with everything. Vi had paid for the whole wedding, refused to let the Kirammans so much as lift a finger. And it hadn’t been small, either—not some quiet, private ceremony. No, Vi had gone all in, throwing the kind of wedding that had the highest circles of Piltover and the most powerful names in Zaun talking for months. After all, it wasn’t every day that the heirs of both cities' most influential families got married. It was history in the making.

It didn’t matter that neither of them had wanted it.

Four years. Almost five. That was how long they had been bound together, sharing a house, a bed, a life in the most technical sense. But there was nothing real about it. No warmth, no closeness, just a cold, distant arrangement where neither of them spoke unless they had to, where glances were rare and time spent together even rarer. A marriage in name only, stitched together by duty, held in place by the weight of their families' legacies.

And that was fine. It had to be. She didn’t care. She wasn’t here for love or romance or whatever it was people like to dream about. She had a role to play, a responsibility to uphold. 

She shut off her phone’s screen, flipping it face down on the bed before slipping her feet into the waiting warmth of her bedroom slippers. Standing up, she moved downstairs, her steps steady but without urgency. Most mornings, she skipped breakfast entirely, preferring to shower and get dressed before heading to the kitchen of their oversized townhouse. At the start of her marriage with Vi, she had made an effort—more than Caitlyn ever had, really. The only thing Caitlyn had ever done to hold up her end of the marriage was making sure Vi was inside her when she was in heat.

That was what mattered most to their families—an heir. Nothing else had ever been expected. So that’s what they did. Whenever her heat came, she’d send Vi a message, and they’d have sex. If you could even call it that. No buildup, no warmth, no tenderness. Just Caitlyn lying there, her legs open, Vi inside her, and the moment it was done—when Vi had spilled inside her—she’d get up and leave, and Caitlyn would pull her underwear back up like nothing happened. That was the full extent of their intimacy. Cold. Detached. Transactional. And after more than two years of this, nothing had come of it. No pregnancy. No child. No future heir.

She had spoken to Powder about it once—Vi’s younger sister, her closest friend, a scientist in Piltover’s Academia. Powder had a theory. Maybe it was because, despite being married, they had never actually claimed each other. No bond. No mating. Just a contract on paper, nothing else. No one knew about that, of course. Just her, Vi, and Powder. And maybe Powder was right. Maybe it was true.

Because after three years of trying, Vi had finally stopped. Caitlyn still remembers the last time she reached out, sending a text to let Vi know her heat had started. The reply came fast, blunt, like it wasn’t even worth pretending anymore—Why are we still doing this? It’s not working. We’re just wasting time.

And just like that, it ended.

She never told Vi again. Vi never asked. That was over a year ago now, and they haven’t touched since.

When Caitlyn stepped into the kitchen, it was spotless. It had been like this for months now. She sighed, noticing yet another thing Vi had given up on. Since the day they got married, Vi had always made breakfast, always left something for Caitlyn to eat before heading out. But Caitlyn never touched it. Every morning, by the time she came downstairs, she was already dressed and ready to leave, and eating breakfast wasn’t something she cared to waste time on. So she just tossed it. Every single time.

Vi must have gotten tired of it after almost five years, because one day, she just stopped. No more meals waiting for her. No more plates carefully set aside. It had been months now since breakfast stopped showing up, and now… now Caitlyn actually misses it.

She sighed again, moving to the coffee maker, setting it to brew as her gaze wandered around their house. Even their home felt cold. Empty. Nothing about it felt lived in, nothing felt personal. Even one of those overpriced furniture showrooms in downtown Piltover had more warmth than this place. The only picture on display was from their wedding day—both of them standing side by side, looking happy. At least, Caitlyn had played the part well. But Vi… Vi’s smile had actually reached her eyes in that photo. She hasn’t seen Vi smile like that in a long time. A really long time.

The soft drip of the brewed coffee pulled her back to the present. Everything in their marriage was the same, really. Nothing had changed. Nothing noticeable, at least. Except… they haven’t touched in over a year. Vi had stopped making her breakfast. And at night—Vi no longer waited for her. She didn’t ask Caitlyn to have dinner with her anymore.

Their marriage had always been distant. Always been cold. But now… now it feels like Vi is letting go. And Caitlyn, who has spent years telling herself that she doesn’t care—telling herself that this is just duty, just obligation, nothing more—finds herself realizing something she wasn’t ready to admit.

She’s not ready for Vi to let go.

Her whole day had been a nonstop cycle of reporters, council meetings, and courtroom drama. Sitting through it all, listening, responding when necessary—it was exhausting. The moment she arrived at the Council Building, reporters had swarmed her, throwing questions from every direction. One asked if she thought the revisions to the current laws would impact Piltover’s economy, given its reliance on trade with other regions. Another pushed for her opinion on the corrupt enforcer currently on trial.

She brushed them off, keeping her response short and to the point—she couldn’t comment. That should have been the end of it. But as she turned to leave, another reporter cut in with a different kind of question, one that made her pause.

"Councilor Lanes-Kiramman, can you comment on the rumors about your marriage to Violet Lanes, CEO of Zaun Heavy Industries? There are claims that your marriage is falling apart—that you no longer live together."

For the first time, Caitlyn hesitated.

Her personal life wasn’t anyone’s business. But she couldn’t exactly ignore the question either, not when it was already out there. So she answered, voice even, expression unreadable—Vi still comes home every day, and their marriage is fine.

Not entirely a lie. Not the truth either.

But now, finally, her day was almost over. Almost. She still had that meeting with Mel, her lawyer.

Mel’s office wasn’t far, so she decided to walk. She wasn’t looking forward to this conversation, especially when she had no idea what it was about—only that it had something to do with her marriage.

When she arrived, the receptionist didn’t waste time, guiding her straight to Mel’s private office. Inside, Mel greeted her with a small smile as Caitlyn took a seat on the sofa in front of the desk. There was already a fresh cup of coffee waiting for her. Then, without missing a beat, Mel instructed the receptionist to shut the door and make sure they weren’t disturbed. Caitlyn watched as the door clicked shut, leaving the two of them alone in the quiet office.

Caitlyn was the first to break the silence. "Alright, Mel, just tell me—what is this meeting really about?"

Mel sighed, getting up from her chair, grabbing two large envelopes from her desk. "Recently, there have been rumors about your marriage. People are saying things aren’t going well between you and Vi. I wanted to hear it straight from you—any truth to that?"

Caitlyn rolled her eyes. "They're just rumors." Her tone was even, dismissive. "Sure, my marriage isn’t perfect, but we’re still married and Vi still comes home to me. Every night."

She said it like it was a fact, something unshakable. But even as the words left her mouth, she knew she wasn’t being completely honest. Something was wrong—had been for a while now. The changes were small, subtle, but they were there, and she wasn’t blind to them.

Mel didn’t argue. She simply handed Caitlyn one of the envelopes. It was already open. That meant Mel had seen whatever was inside.

Caitlyn hesitated for half a second before taking it, glancing at Mel with quiet suspicion before pulling out the contents.

Photographs.

Of Vi.

With another woman.

She forced herself to stay composed, gripping the pictures with steady fingers even as something inside her started to crack. They weren’t innocent photos. Vi wasn’t just with this woman—she was with her. Kissing. Laughing. Holding hands. Sharing dinner. Wrapped up in each other like they were the only two people in the world. In one, they were walking into a building Caitlyn recognized instantly—one of the most expensive condo complexes in Piltover.

"Her name’s Sarah Fortune," Mel said, her voice careful. "She owns a shipping company based in Bilgewater. Has an office in Zaun."

Caitlyn barely heard her. She already knew who Sarah was.

"I’ve met her," she murmured, placing the pictures back inside the envelope with slow, deliberate movements. "At a party in Piltover. Three years ago."

She forced a smile, looking at Mel. "And the second envelope? More of these?"

Mel let out another sigh, then pushed the second envelope across the desk. "It’s from Talis and Associates."

Caitlyn’s fingers tightened around the first envelope, her heart dropping before Mel even said the words.

"Vi’s lawyers."

She knew what this was. Knew before she even picked it up.

But Mel still said it.

"Vi wants a divorce."

Chapter Text

Vi stepped into her downtown condo, shutting the door behind her with a quiet click. She didn’t want to go back to the townhouse she shared with Caitlyn—not after everything she’d done today. By now, Caitlyn should have received the divorce papers she had Jayce draft. Staying here tonight felt like the better option. She wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation.

Or maybe she was.

At this point, she’d take anything—any sign that Caitlyn actually felt something, anything at all. In almost five years, their marriage had been nothing but silence. They shared a bed, a house, a name, even their bank accounts, but beyond that? There was nothing.

Janna, she couldn’t even bring herself to sleep with Caitlyn anymore—not after years of watching her lie there, expression cold, body still, letting Vi try to put a pup in her like it was some obligation she had to endure. Caitlyn’s face alone during those nights had been enough to kill whatever desire Vi had left.

She made her way into the bedroom, dropping onto the bed with a heavy sigh, only to hear a voice call out from the bathroom.

"Vi, I know you didn’t just lay down on that bed in your work clothes."

Vi groaned but smiled, pushing herself back up. "I didn’t."

Vi got up completely, stripping off her work clothes as she headed toward the bathroom. Sarah—her mistress, or maybe just a friend, a confidante… mistress—was already in the bath. She glanced at Vi, eyes lingering as the alpha undressed, and asked how her day had been.

Vi shrugged. "It was okay," she said, pulling off her shirt. "Had a few issues with the new weapon prototypes. Gotta have Ekko check them out tomorrow. But other than that? Yeah, it was fine."

Sarah smiled, rinsing her hair, then asked, "Did you send the divorce papers to your wife?"

Vi sighed as she stepped into the shower, now completely bare. "Yeah. The papers, all the other documents—everything’s been sent to her lawyers."

Sarah nodded but didn’t say anything right away. Instead, she wrapped her arms around Vi’s neck, pulling her in close, her gaze searching. "Are you sure about this? Are you really ready to go through with it?"

Vi shrugged. "Yeah, I’m sure. What’s the point of being married to Caitlyn? We barely talk, barely see each other, barely even tried to make it work." Her voice was steady, but there was something else beneath it—something tired, worn down. "I’m done."

Sarah sighed, fingers tracing slow patterns against Vi’s skin. "I’m sorry." Then, her lips found Vi’s neck, kissing, teasing, her tongue warm against damp skin, making Vi hard without even trying. Vi’s hands slid to Sarah’s waist, pulling her in, grounding herself in the warmth of someone who actually wanted to be close to her.

"Don’t be sorry about my marriage," Vi murmured, her breath coming out heavier. "That’s just how life is. Some things aren’t meant to be."

Sarah exhaled softly against her skin, then, after a beat, asked, "But… do you still want to try again? With Caitlyn? Maybe there’s still a chance."

Vi didn’t even hesitate. She shook her head. "There’s no point."

She had tried. So many times. But Caitlyn didn’t want her. Caitlyn had made that painfully clear. And Vi—stupid, stubborn, too damn hopeful for her own good—had spent years thinking maybe, just maybe, things would change. That they’d figure it out. That somehow, they’d learn to love each other.

But it had been five years.

It wasn’t happening.

And Vi had to accept that.

The shower with Sarah had been exactly what Vi needed. They had made love, and Sarah gave Vi everything Caitlyn never would. She moaned for her, melted under her touch, opened up for her in ways Caitlyn never had. She wanted to please Vi, and Vi craved it—ached for it. Sarah did everything Vi had once hoped Caitlyn would.

In the early days of their marriage, there had been so many nights when Vi lay beside Caitlyn, wanting nothing more than to touch her, to be inside her, to love her the way a spouse should. But every time she tried, Caitlyn had a reason—a rejection wrapped in quiet excuses. She was tired. She wasn’t in the mood. She had work early in the morning. There was always something. And eventually, Vi got the message. Caitlyn didn’t want her. Didn’t want Vi at all.

And Vi, for all her frustration, for all the hurt curling inside her chest, had been too damn nice for her own good. She never forced Caitlyn, never demanded what was supposed to be hers by right. She didn’t want to be that kind of spouse, that kind of alpha.

She could have pushed. Could have reminded Caitlyn of her duties as a wife. But Vi didn’t want that. She didn’t want Caitlyn lying beneath her out of obligation.

So now, she had Sarah. And she gave Sarah everything—everything she had once dreamed of giving Caitlyn. She spilled into her, filled her, planted the pups she had once longed for Caitlyn to carry. But Caitlyn didn’t want them. Didn’t want her.

So Vi gave them to someone who did.

To someone who actually loved her.

To someone who wanted her.

Vi had known Sarah for a while now. They first met at a Piltover party about three years ago—one of those high-profile gatherings for merchants and business owners from Piltover and Zaun. Since Sarah had expanded her shipping business into Zaun, she was there, mingling with the elite, making connections.

At first, their friendship had been completely platonic. Sarah’s office was close to Vi’s, and since Vi was the only person she had met at that party with a headquarters in Zaun, it just made sense to her to invite Vi for coffee now and then whenever she was in the area. Those casual coffee meetups became more frequent, and before long, Vi started treating Sarah like a real friend—someone she could actually talk to.

Sarah had been the first person she ever confided in about her marriage. About how cold it felt. About how Caitlyn never really seemed to want her. About how she was starting to feel like she was just going through the motions, doing what was expected of her, while getting nothing in return. And Sarah listened. She never told anyone. She never judged. And from there… things just started to happen.

Their friendship turned into something else the night they decided to drink together at Vi’s condo—a place Caitlyn didn’t even know existed. It was where Vi went when she needed space, when she was frustrated, when she had no one to talk to, because it wasn’t like she could go to her wife about her problems. They barely spoke as it was, only ever when it was necessary.

That night, they got drunk. And Vi wasn’t sure how the conversation shifted to sex, but it did. She had told Sarah it had been months since she and Caitlyn had been together—if you could even call it that. And Sarah, just as drunk, had laughed, then offered something Vi never expected.

"I could help you out," she had said. "If you want."

Vi hesitated. She hadn’t been looking for a new relationship. She cared about her wife. She wanted to be faithful. But… she had needs too. Needs Caitlyn never met—at least, not unless it was required because of her heat.

And then Sarah had kissed her. Mouth warm, hands unzipping her pants, freeing her aching length, and before Vi could think about stopping it, those same lips were wrapped around her, giving her something she hadn’t even realized how badly she needed.

They had sex all through the night—wild, rough, messy. Sarah’s moans filled the room, echoing off the walls, mixing with Vi’s grunts, every thrust hitting deep, every climax tearing through her like a dam breaking. It was desperate. It was consuming.

And in the morning, regret settled in.

But Sarah had only laughed, brushing it off like it was nothing. "It’s just sex, Vi. It doesn’t mean anything." Then, as if to make it easier, she added, "If Caitlyn isn’t giving you what you need, I don’t see anything wrong with you getting it somewhere else."

Vi had felt guilty—really guilty. Enough that she avoided Sarah for a while, kept her distance, let the silence stretch. But her marriage with Caitlyn wasn’t getting any better. If anything, it was worse. The distance between them kept growing, day by day, until Vi finally stopped trying too. The little things—the breakfast she used to make, the attempts to start a conversation, the quiet gestures—none of it seemed worth it anymore. Why was she still holding on when Caitlyn had checked out years ago? It was like trying to hold onto water.

She had thought about divorce before. Considered it heavily. But she never went through with it because—what then? What was she supposed to do afterward? It wasn’t like she was eager to start dating again. She didn’t have the time, didn’t have the patience. Her life had become nothing but work all day and coming home to a wife who barely acknowledged her existence.

And then it hit her.

Maybe it was time to start doing things for herself. Things that actually made her feel happy. Things that made her feel wanted.

Sarah wasn’t promising her forever. She wasn’t asking for more. She knew exactly what this was.

Vi had tried to talk to her once, tried to be upfront. "I can’t give you the love you deserve."

But Sarah had only laughed, shaking her head. "Who said I was looking for love? I’m just like you, Vi. I don’t have time to waste in dating someone just to figure out we’re not compatible. This?" She had smirked, eyes glinting with something easy, something light. "This just means neither of us have to waste our time."

So their relationship just continued, stretching on without any real discussion of what came next. For the first time in years, Vi actually felt wanted. Loved. Appreciated. Even if it was temporary, even if it wasn’t built to last—it still felt good. And that was enough.

Neither she nor Sarah had talked about the future. They were happy as they were, content in their secrecy. Vi hadn’t asked for the divorce so she could marry Sarah or go public with their relationship. That was never the point. She had asked for it because she was done being tied to a woman who only acknowledged their marriage when it suited her. She was tired of feeling like an afterthought.

And once Caitlyn signed the papers, Vi could finally move forward. Maybe she’d try dating again. Maybe she’d even have a pup, build the kind of life she had once imagined having with Caitlyn—but this time, with someone who actually wanted it.

After their shower, they had settled into bed, each lost in their own activities—Sarah reviewing work reports on her laptop, Vi flipping through a book. It was quiet, easy, a kind of peace Vi hadn’t realized she was missing. Then her phone rang.

Vi glanced at the screen. Caitlyn.

With a sigh, she placed her bookmark between the pages, setting the book aside before picking up her phone. Sarah glanced at her, smiling as she gestured for Vi to answer. "Maybe she wants to talk about the divorce."

Vi rolled her eyes, shaking her head before pressing the phone to her ear. "What do you want?"

No pleasantries. No small talk. Just bluntness.

There was a sigh on the other end before Caitlyn finally spoke. "Where are you?"

Vi hesitated for half a second, meeting Sarah’s gaze before replying, voice softer than before. "Still working."

Silence. Then—"What time are you coming home?"

Vi leaned back against the pillows, exhaling. "I’m not coming home tonight. Got a lot to do. Too tired to drive back."

Another pause. Then Caitlyn finally said, "I need to talk to you."

Something inside Vi tensed, but she forced herself to keep her voice even. "If you have anything to say to me, talk to Jayce Talis." She didn’t give Caitlyn a chance to argue before adding, "You have my lawyer’s number, right?"

Caitlyn sighed. "Can we at least have a conversation before bringing lawyers into this?"

Vi exhaled sharply, already feeling the frustration build. "What’s there to talk about, Cait? We’ve barely been married these past five years." She ran a hand over her face, her voice flat, tired. "This marriage ended months after it started. All we’ve been doing since then is going through the motions—waking up, going to bed, repeating the same damn routine."

That was all their marriage had ever been. A routine. Nothing more.

Caitlyn sighed again. "I know that. But can we at least talk about it? In person. At home. A divorce isn’t going to fix anything."

Vi groaned, leaning back against the headboard, her free hand resting on her forehead. Across the bed, Sarah glanced at her, raising an eyebrow, silently asking what was going on. Vi ignored it.

"We had five years to talk," she said, voice clipped. "Five years to try and fix this. And I was done trying a long time ago. It’s in everyone’s best interest if you just sign the papers. We need to move on."

Silence.

Long enough that Vi almost checked her phone to see if Caitlyn had hung up.

And then—

"I’m not signing them."

Caitlyn’s voice was steady, firm. "I’m not divorcing you."

Chapter Text

Vi hadn’t come home in three days. Caitlyn had stopped calling after the first day when it became clear Vi wasn’t going to answer. She carried on as usual—composed, steady, never slipping, never letting anyone see even a crack. She wasn’t about to give people the satisfaction of watching her fall apart.

But the rumors were getting louder. Just yesterday, a tabloid had plastered them across its front page, fanning the flames with bold headlines. Their marriage was a scam, a fraud. The article claimed it had all been arranged—that they had never actually dated for two years before getting married, that everything they had ever presented to the public was a lie. The gossip spread fast, sweeping through both Piltover and Zaun, turning their marriage into the city’s favorite spectacle.

And when Caitlyn checked social media, the reactions were all over the place.

"I knew it! That marriage was phony from the start!"
"It’s probably not all fake, but maybe they just fell out of love."
"You guys, this is just a distraction! A publicity stunt so people stop asking about those new laws the council is working on."
"I think Violet Lanes just got tired of being with the Kiramman girl—she’s obviously a spoiled brat if I’ve ever seen one."
"I bet Vi Lanes is having an affair."
"Well, what if they’re both having an affair???"
"Yeah, this marriage is so fake. If they’re so in love like they say, why don’t they have kids? Five years and nothing? If Caitlyn Kiramman was my wife, I’d hit that every night!"
"Ugh, if Caitlyn doesn’t want Vi, I’d take her. She’s way too hot for that frigid bimbo anyway."
"Why are you all obsessed with someone else’s personal life? Do none of you have shame? It’s their business, leave them alone!"
"Maybe talk about the damn hearing about that corrupt enforcer instead of this fake-ass marriage between two political dynasties!"

Everyone had an opinion.

Caitlyn usually didn’t care. But she couldn’t stop reading. She just kept scrolling.

Kept looking.

Kept seeing.

And this couldn’t have come at a worse time. The new laws under review by the council were already controversial enough. If passed, they would introduce a new tariff matrix on all trade in and out of Piltover and Zaun. Businesses within the cities would see higher profits, but trade with other regions would suffer—those regions would be forced to pay steep tariffs just to do business, cutting into their earnings.

It wasn’t the best law. But the merchant guild wanted it, and Caitlyn was on the committee reviewing it. Her vote could very well decide its fate.

The Kiramman vote had always carried the most weight in the council. Their family was the one that kept Piltover balanced, ensuring that laws either benefited everyone—or no one at all. That was their duty.

And yet, instead of reviewing bylaws, proposals, and contingency plans, she was sitting here, scrolling through tabloids, drowning in rumors about her personal life.

With an exhausted sigh, she closed every browser on her phone, shutting down the endless speculation about her marriage.

Then, without overthinking it, she pulled up her contacts and dialed Powder’s number.

She needed to talk to someone.

Someone who wouldn’t judge her.

Someone who wouldn’t take sides.

And Powder was that person.

The phone rang and rang, each unanswered tone making Caitlyn wonder if Powder was even going to pick up. But finally, she did—her voice cutting through Caitlyn’s exhaustion, shrill and full of life as always.

"I was wondering when you’d call," Powder said immediately, not even giving Caitlyn a chance to speak. "I had a feeling you’d reach out sooner or later."

Caitlyn groaned, rubbing her temple. "So I’m guessing you’ve seen the tabloids?"

Powder snorted. "Who hasn’t?"

Then her tone shifted—somewhere between amusement and irritation. "Why do people care so much? It’s like they think they have stock in your marriage or something."

Caitlyn let out a short laugh. "That’s how gossip works, Powder."

"Yeah, well, people suck," Powder muttered. Then, her voice brightened again. "You wanna hang out later? I’ve got a few experiments to finish up, but after that, I’m free."

Caitlyn exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. "Yeah. I’d love that. I just… I need to talk to someone."

"Great," Powder said, grinning through the phone. "Your place or mine?"

"Mine." Caitlyn didn’t even hesitate. "I really don’t feel like going out." She sighed, rubbing at the back of her neck. "Vi hasn’t been home in days. Doubt she’s coming home tonight either. So we can drink, be as loud as we want—not that she ever complained before."

There was a pause on the other end. Not long, but long enough.

Then, Powder’s voice came back, quieter this time. "So… Vi really hasn’t come home?"

Caitlyn sighed again. "No. Three days now." She hesitated, lips pressing together before finally adding, "She’s probably off somewhere with…"

She trailed off, shaking her head. "You know what? I’ll just tell you when you get here."

The moment Caitlyn hung up her phone, she heard the front door open and close. She stood from her desk, already knowing who it was. They didn’t have live-in staff—just cleaners who came in once a week. Any smaller chores were usually handled by Vi, or by Caitlyn if she felt inclined.

Their townhouse was spacious, two stories, four bedrooms, three bathrooms. The ground floor housed the living room, kitchen, and dining area, while the second floor held the master bedroom with its en suite, a guest room with another private bath, and both of their offices.

When Caitlyn stepped into the master bedroom, she found Vi standing by the bed, an open suitcase in front of her. She was packing.

Caitlyn knew Vi had heard her come in—there was no way she hadn’t—but she didn’t acknowledge her. Just kept moving, methodically folding and placing clothes into the luggage like Caitlyn wasn’t even there.

Clearing her throat, Caitlyn finally spoke. "What are you doing?"

Her voice was calm. Too calm. No shock, no anger, no jealousy. Just composure. Detached.

Vi didn’t even glance up. "Getting some of my stuff. I’ll be staying somewhere else until the divorce is finalized."

Caitlyn’s response was immediate. "I’m not signing the divorce papers."

That made Vi pause. She sighed, finally lifting her head to look at Caitlyn, annoyance flashing across her face. "Why the hell not?"

Caitlyn crossed her arms over her chest. "Because a divorce won’t fix anything. If there are problems in our marriage, we should talk about them. Fix them together."

Vi let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "We’ve always had problems, Cait. Since the beginning. But now that I want out—now you want to talk about them?"

Caitlyn’s expression didn’t change. "You never brought them up to me in the first place."

Vi didn’t even hesitate. "How the hell were we supposed to talk about our problems when we barely talked at all?"

Caitlyn could see the frustration on Vi’s face—etched into every tense line of her expression. It wasn’t the kind of fleeting annoyance that passed with time. It was deeper, heavier, the kind of anger that had been held in for far too long and couldn’t be bottled up anymore.

Vi shook her head, voice sharp as she spoke. "This marriage was a mistake. You weren’t ready to be married, to be mated. And now, I’m giving you exactly what you need—what you want." Her eyes locked onto Caitlyn’s. "Your freedom from a marriage you never wanted."

Caitlyn pursed her lips, her voice measured when she finally replied. "That’s bold of you to assume that I want this marriage to end."

Vi exhaled hard, running a hand through her hair, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. "Even if you don’t want it to end, I do."

With a sigh, she sank onto the edge of the bed, her shoulders sagging under the weight of something unspoken. "I’m tired, Cait. Tired of the coldness, the silence, this whole house feeling like a damn business arrangement." She let out a bitter chuckle, shaking her head. "Even when we were trying to get pregnant, even that was a fucking transaction—like I was the only one who wanted a pup, and you were just… there. Letting me have my way because you were obligated to provide an heir. A grandchild for our parents."

Then she looked up, her eyes searching Caitlyn’s face. "Tell me I’m wrong."

Caitlyn looked away, lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t answer immediately, didn’t meet Vi’s eyes. Then, finally, she sighed. "If you want to try for a baby again, we can. If that’s what you want."

Vi groaned, dragging a hand through her hair again, voice sharp with exasperation. "It’s not about the fucking baby!"

Vi had never raised her voice before. Not at Caitlyn. Not in frustration, not in anger—not in anything. But now, she was done holding back.

"It’s about everything else. It’s about how I tried—really fucking tried—to make this marriage work, even though it was forced on us. It’s about how I tried to connect with you, even when you pushed me away, even when you rejected me every damn time." Vi’s voice was raw, edged with something Caitlyn had never heard before.

She let out a breath, shaking her head. "It’s about how you never wanted me to claim you, never wanted to seal our bond. It’s about how you never once appreciated anything I did for you. All those meals I made for you that you just threw away. All those dinners I waited for you to have with me, only for you to ignore me completely."

Vi exhaled sharply, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "It was never just about the baby. It was everything. And I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired of being in a marriage where neither of us are even trying."

Caitlyn didn’t interrupt. She let Vi say everything—let her pour out every grievance, every buried frustration.

Then, slowly, she sighed and stepped closer. Her voice was calm, steady, careful. "And you think getting a divorce is going to fix all of that?"

Vi looked at her, something flickering across her face—something unreadable. Then she shook her head.

"There’s nothing left to fix, Cait."

Caitlyn nodded slowly, meeting Vi’s gaze head-on. "Love wasn’t part of the arrangement, Violet. We weren’t obligated to love or care for each other in this marriage. It was a marriage of convenience—one our parents wanted for us."

She paused, licking her lips before crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "So yes, I wasn’t ready to be married, to be claimed, to be mated." Her voice was measured, controlled. "I had a lot of reservations when this marriage started, but you never said anything. You never told me otherwise, so I assumed you were fine with it."

She hesitated, then added, "If something was bothering you, you should have said something."

Vi let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Oh, so now this is my fault? Our marriage failed because I didn’t speak up?"

Caitlyn exhaled, her composure cracking at the edges. "Fine," she snapped, frustration creeping into her voice. "It’s my fault. I’m the one to blame for everything. Is that what you want to hear? Does that make this better for you?"

She turned away, moving to sit on the chair by the window, rubbing at her temple. "But I can’t sign the divorce papers. Not yet. Not until we actually try to fix this." Her voice softened just a fraction before she added, "And if you really want this divorce, then you can be the one to talk to our parents first."

Vi stared at her, incredulous. "And what exactly am I supposed to tell them, Cait?" She shook her head, scoffing. "That you’ve been neglecting your duties as my wife? That the only time you ever let me touch you was when you were in heat, and even then, you just lay there like a fucking corpse, waiting for it to be over?"

Caitlyn’s hand slammed against the armrest, her patience snapping. "I don’t care what you tell them. Say whatever the hell you want. But you tell them—because you’re the one giving up on this marriage, not me."

Vi turned away, shaking her head, her hands tightening around the handle of her bag. "Yeah, well, you didn’t really give me much to fight for, did you?" Her voice was quieter now, resigned. "Didn’t really leave me with much choice except to walk away."

She was lifting the bag from the bed when Caitlyn spoke again. "Which is why I’m asking for us to try." Her voice wasn’t sharp anymore, but steady. "Before we push through with this divorce."

Vi exhaled, looking at Caitlyn, her expression cold. "Oh, so now you’re willing to make an effort?" Her lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "Because I’m walking away?"

She tilted her head, studying Caitlyn like she was trying to piece together something unseen. "Why, Cait? Is it because a divorce would be seen as a failure on your part? That people will think you’re incompetent because you couldn’t even hold on to your own spouse?" Her voice was calm, but the words cut. "That if you can’t even keep your own marriage together, how the hell can you be trusted to make the right decisions for the council?"

Caitlyn sighed, then stood up, her gaze steady as she looked at Vi. "I don’t care what people think of me. I don’t care if they see me as competent or incompetent in my marriage. My personal life isn’t up for debate."

She paused, holding Vi’s gaze, unflinching. "And maybe you’re right. Maybe I am the reason this marriage fell apart. But don’t stand there and act like you never had the chance to say something. At any point, Violet, you could have spoken up. It’s not like I wouldn’t have listened."

Another sigh. Caitlyn shook her head before sinking back into the chair, her eyes drifting toward the bag in Vi's hand.

"So… are you staying with your mistress?" Her voice was calm, almost casual. "Sarah?"

Vi froze, surprise flickering across her face before shifting into something close to confusion.

Caitlyn smiled, but there was no humor in it. "I know, Violet. I know you’ve been unfaithful. I know about Sarah."

She shrugged, exhaling as she leaned back in the chair. "How long it’s been going on? I don’t know. And honestly? I don’t really care." Her eyes met Vi’s again, colder this time. "But maybe—just maybe—you could have had the decency to end this marriage first before laying with someone else."

She tilted her head slightly, her voice quieter now, but sharper. "If you had needs, you could have said something. You could have told me. Not gone out and fucked someone else just to make a point."

Caitlyn turned toward the window, her expression unreadable. "I know I’m not the perfect wife. I know I don’t show that I care. And yes, I’ve been terrible at fulfilling my duties to you." She exhaled, voice steady but sharp at the edges. "But not once—never once—did I think about being unfaithful."

Her fingers tightened slightly on the armrest before she let out a bitter laugh. "Then again, I’m sure you’d say that’s not much of a statement. That I barely lay with you as it is, so why the hell would I be laying with someone else?"

She sighed, rolling her shoulders back before turning her gaze back to Vi. "I don’t believe in forcing people to do what I want. I’m not the type to blackmail someone into something they don't want to do." She tilted her head slightly. "But if you push this divorce through without even trying to fix things between us, I have no problem sending the photos to both our parents before making sure the tabloids get a hold of them too. And we both know how much they love a scandal."

Vi’s grip tightened around the handle of her bag before she set it down, eyes narrowing. "What photos?"

Caitlyn didn’t blink. "Someone sent them to my lawyers." Her voice was calm, unwavering. "Pictures of you and your mistress. In every state of undress."

She let that settle between them before adding, "I’m sure that kind of information isn’t something you’d want to be made public. For your sake. Or hers."

Vi sighed, swallowing hard as she ran a hand through her hair. "Sarah and I… it was an accident."

Caitlyn let out a sharp laugh. "An accident?" Her voice was cold, mocking. "An accident is getting hit by a car when you’re crossing the street. An accident is dropping a hot cup because it burns your fingers. But choosing to have an affair outside of our marriage?" She shook her head, eyes hard. "That’s not an accident, Vi. That’s a choice."

She paused for a moment, then her voice dropped lower, quieter—but no less cutting. "You chose to be unfaithful. You decided to lay with someone else while still married to me. You chose to disrespect the vows we exchanged."

Vi scoffed, jaw tightening. "Yeah? And you followed those vows to the letter?"

Caitlyn was on her feet before she could stop herself. "No. But I wasn’t the one who had an affair!" Her voice echoed through the room, sharp and raw, the words slamming into the space between them like a wall.

They stood there, staring at each other. Neither backing down. Neither willing to be the first to look away. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until finally, Vi’s voice cut through it.

"I’m leaving."

Caitlyn didn’t flinch. "Do whatever you want, Violet." Her tone was flat, steady. "But if you go through with this divorce, don’t blame me for what I do next."

Chapter Text

Powder arrived at the townhouse long after Vi had left, arms full of snacks, liquor, and a stack of DVDs. She breezed in like a force of nature—bright, radiant, filling the space with her usual energy.

Caitlyn was already in her house clothes by then, curled up on the couch, her face as stoic as ever. Powder barely seemed to notice, already yapping about the movies she brought for their impromptu hangout.

But the confrontation with Vi still sat heavy in Caitlyn’s chest, weighing down her thoughts. And as much as Powder was her best friend, she was still Vi’s little sister. And while Vi and Powder had a complicated sibling relationship, she knows Powder still loves Vi very much. Caitlyn wasn’t sure how much of tonight’s fight she could—or should—say out loud.

At the same time, there wasn’t much she couldn’t tell Powder either. Their friendship had been there long before Caitlyn’s marriage. Their families had always been close, their parents intertwined in politics and business, their childhoods spent orbiting each other. But Caitlyn and Vi? They had never been close. Not enemies, but not friends either. Just two people who had always existed in each other’s space without ever really knowing one another.

Powder, though—she had been different. Caitlyn never had siblings, but if she had, she imagined it would have felt something like this. Powder had been her shadow growing up, the one constant in a world that expected too much from her too soon. And as the years passed, that closeness never faded.

Powder had been the first person Caitlyn confided in when the arranged marriage was brought up. She had been the first to hear Caitlyn say she didn’t want this—that she had no desire for a relationship, especially not one that would strip her of her autonomy.

"Then tell them," Powder had said. "Tell them you don’t want it."

But she hadn’t. She couldn’t.

How was she supposed to defy her parents when they had made such a compelling case? Marrying Vi would solidify the unity between the two cities, strengthen alliances, bring economic stability. It was never about love. It was about duty.

And duty was something Caitlyn had never been allowed to turn her back on.

Powder was still talking about the movie as she slid the disc into the ancient DVD player Caitlyn refused to throw away. With streaming services everywhere, there wasn’t much need for it anymore, but there was something nostalgic about watching movies like this—something neither of them wanted to let go of.

As the movie started playing, Powder lowered the volume before flopping onto the couch beside Caitlyn. Then, without missing a beat, she asked, "Alright, what happened?"

Caitlyn sighed, forcing a small smile before answering. "Vi asked for a divorce."

Powder’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open. "What?" she practically shouted.

Caitlyn groaned, tilting her head back against the couch. "Violet. Asked. For. A divorce."

Powder knew their marriage wasn’t great—she always had. Vi confided in her. Caitlyn did too. She had never been blind to the cracks between them, but still, this time, things felt… different.

She fell quiet for a moment, thinking, then asked, "Why?"

Caitlyn shrugged, staring at the screen without really seeing it. "Maybe she’s just tired of carrying the relationship. Maybe I wasn’t doing enough. I don’t know."

Her voice wavered, just for a second. The indifference she worked so hard to maintain slipping, if only slightly. "Maybe I should have tried harder."

Powder’s voice was softer when she asked, "Then why didn’t you?"

Caitlyn let out a long breath, pressing her fingers to her temple. "I don’t know, Pow. Things weren’t great, I get that, but… they weren’t bad either. We did what was required of us in public, and…" She trailed off, shaking her head, frustration creeping into her voice. She didn’t want to break. Not now. Not over this.

Powder hummed thoughtfully before shifting closer, resting her head against Caitlyn’s lap. "Is it really that hard to put in a little effort?" she asked, voice quiet. "It doesn’t have to be anything big. Just, I don’t know… asking about her day or something."

Caitlyn sighed, her fingers brushing absently over Powder’s hair. "It’s not that difficult, but…" She hesitated, then admitted, "I always felt that if I showed anything more to Vi, if I had made too much effort, then she might start hoping for something I couldn’t give her, not back then anyway."

Caitlyn sighed, tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling, silently reminding herself not to cry. Not to break down.

"Vi said that even in the first months of our marriage, everything was already falling apart." Her voice was steady, but there was something hollow beneath it. "And I can’t blame her for thinking that. I know I had a part in it. But every time she brought up the claiming bite, every time she asked about us being… intimate, it just felt so..." She exhaled sharply. "Difficult."

Her fingers curled slightly against the fabric of her sweatpants as she blinked furiously, pushing back the memories. Their first night together. Vi had been gentle, careful, patient with her. It had been… really good. But it had also left Caitlyn with this gnawing feeling—that Vi had wanted something more from here, an intimacy Caitlyn couldn’t give, a connection that wasn’t there, at least not for Caitlyn. The marriage was just duty for Caitlyn, nothing more, nothing less.

Powder’s voice cut through her thoughts, pulling her back. "You okay?"

Caitlyn forced a shrug. "I don’t really have a choice, do I?"

Powder sighed, leaning further into the couch. "So… what now?" 

Caitlyn exhaled, running a hand over her face. "I’m not signing the divorce papers." She glanced at Powder, her expression unreadable. "I told Vi we should at least try to fix things before going through with it. And if she really wants out, then she can be the one to tell our parents. I’m not having that conversation."

Powder sat up, turning to face her. "I don’t know if I should be happy you want to try or annoyed that you’re making this so damn difficult." Her eyes narrowed. "You never wanted this marriage to begin with. But you don’t want it to end either. And you’re not doing anything to keep Vi around."

Caitlyn didn’t respond, just pressed her lips together as Powder grabbed a soda from the table, popping the tab open. Then, as if the thought had just hit her, Powder asked, "Have you two even had sex recently?"

Caitlyn groaned, rubbing her temples. "Why is physical intimacy the first thing people think about when it comes to relationship problems?"

Powder snorted. "It’s not a magic wand that fixes everything, Cait. But it does help if you’re at least trying to be close."

Caitlyn sighed, shaking her head. "I know. But the only time we ever did it was when I was in heat. And even that stopped. We haven’t had sex in over a year."

Powder, mid-sip of her soda, suddenly choked, coughing as she sputtered through her drink. Her eyebrows shot up as she stared at Caitlyn in disbelief.

"Over a year?"

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, leaning back against the couch. "I wasn’t the one who stopped it. Vi was." Her voice was flat, detached. "She said it was a waste of time to keep trying when we weren’t getting pregnant anyway. So I stopped telling her when I was in heat. Started using suppressants instead."

Powder set her soda down, eyes narrowing. "And you’re okay with that? Going through your heats like that?"

Caitlyn shrugged. "Not like I had a choice. I wasn’t going to force Vi into it. And she never asked again." She let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. "Probably because she was getting her needs met somewhere else."

The second she said it, she knew she had said too much.

Powder’s brows shot up, then furrowed, her expression shifting. "What do you mean by that?"

Caitlyn immediately tried to brush it off. "Nothing. Forget it."

But Powder wasn’t letting it go. "No. What do you mean, Cait? Was Vi cheating on you?"

Caitlyn sighed. She hadn’t wanted to say this, hadn’t wanted to be the one to tarnish Vi’s image, at least not like this. But she had already let it slip. No point in turning back now.

Straightening up, she met Powder’s gaze. "If I tell you, you have to promise it stays between us."

Powder groaned, nodding quickly. "Yes, yes, I swear. Now spill."

Caitlyn hesitated, just for a second. Then, finally, she said it. "Vi has a mistress."

Powder’s face went slack with shock, just staring at her in disbelief.

Caitlyn exhaled slowly. "I don’t know when it started or how long it’s been going on, but yeah. She’s been seeing someone else."

Powder was still frozen, still trying to process the words, and then suddenly—she was on her feet. "I’m going to kill her."

Caitlyn blinked as Powder started pacing, fists clenched, shaking in fury. "I swear to god, I’m going to strangle her. Of all the stupid things Vi could possibly do, she had to go and have an affair?!"

Caitlyn just watched as Powder ranted, her anger spilling out in every sharp, breathless word. She didn’t interrupt. Didn’t even try. Instead, her gaze drifted—toward the lone wedding photo on the shelf. The only one they had ever bothered to frame.

Something inside her cracked.

The room fell into silence, Powder’s anger simmering down just enough for her to finally glance back at Caitlyn. Her voice was softer when she spoke. "Are you okay?"

Caitlyn forced a smile, the kind that barely reached her eyes. "Of course, I’m okay. I’m fine." She waved a hand dismissively. "I don’t care what Vi does. I really don’t." She exhaled, shaking her head. "Besides, I can’t even blame her, can I? It’s not like I was particularly welcoming."

But Powder knew better.

She sat back down, brushing a stray strand of hair from Caitlyn’s face, voice quieter now. "No, Cait. Really. Are you okay? Like really okay?"

Caitlyn’s composure wavered, her throat tightening as tears burned at the edges of her vision. She fought them back, swallowing hard. "I’m fine." Her voice cracked, and she shook her head, forcing out a laugh. "It’s my fault anyway, right? I didn’t make an effort—"

"Cait." Powder’s voice was firm, cutting through her defenses. "It’s okay not to be fine, Cait. No one—not even me—expects you to be strong all the damn time."

And that was it.

Everything she had been holding in since the moment Mel showed her those pictures, everything she had buried just to keep moving forward—it all came crashing down.

She leaned in, her forehead pressing against Powder’s shoulder, then her face into her neck. And she broke.

But it wasn’t because she was heartbroken.

It wasn’t because Vi had hurt her.

It was because she had done everything right, followed every rule, played by the terms they had agreed upon from the start. And yet, because Vi wanted more than that—because Vi wanted something real —somehow, she was the one in the wrong.

It was so frustrating, and no matter how Caitlyn looked at it, no one was completely in the right. Not Vi. Not her.

Powder did her best to console her, but Caitlyn knew that, in the end, Powder would look at things objectively. She wouldn’t pick sides, not even knowing what Vi had done—because she also knew what Caitlyn had done. Or, more accurately, what Caitlyn hadn’t done.

She wasn’t the type to break down, but everything just felt heavy right now.

She understood where Vi was coming from—truly, she did. And if it were only up to her, she’d let Vi go. But their parents would ask. What did you do to try and fix this? And she couldn’t just say nothing. That wasn’t an answer they’d accept.

So maybe they could try. One last time. And if they still couldn’t make it work, then—then Caitlyn would sign the divorce papers.

Powder shifted, breaking the silence. "You and Vi really need to talk. In a language you both understand. Because somewhere along the way, something got lost in translation."

Caitlyn exhaled, resting her head against Powder’s shoulder. "Tell me, Pow… am I wrong for wanting to fix things? And was it even cheating what Vi did? Because from where I’m sitting, I can see how maybe... maybe it was justified."

Powder pulled back immediately, her gaze sharp. "Cheating is cheating, Cait." Her voice was firm, unwavering. "No matter the circumstances, Vi was still married to you. What she did was wrong. If she wanted to be with someone else, she could have asked for a divorce sooner. It’s as simple as that."

Caitlyn pressed her lips together, trying— needing —to find some kind of excuse, something that would make this easier to accept. "But maybe it was my fault. Maybe—"

"Are you seriously defending her right now?" Powder cut her off, her voice sharp with disbelief. "After what she did?"

Caitlyn hesitated, unsure what to say, but Powder wasn’t done.

"Have you even thought about why Vi never asked for a divorce when she didn’t have a mistress?"

Caitlyn blinked, then slowly shook her head.

Powder shrugged, frustration written all over her face. "Maybe it’s because back then, she didn’t have anyone to fall back on. But now she does. And now, suddenly, she’s confident enough to ask for a divorce."

She shook her head, muttering under her breath, "I swear, I’m gonna strangle her."

Caitlyn let out a small chuckle, shaking her head. "Forget it. Just… I’ll figure it out. I have to."

Powder sighed, watching her closely. "You and Vi really need to talk, Cait. Maybe even go back to the marriage agreement—figure out exactly where you both stand."

Caitlyn’s gaze flickered to the wedding photo on the shelf, the single frame capturing a moment that felt like it belonged to another life.

Then Powder’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant. "Back then—five years ago—you told Vi you couldn’t give her what she wanted. But what about now?"

She let the question settle, heavy between them. "Maybe there’s still a chance. Before the lawyers get involved. Before our parents find out. Before this whole thing really blows up."

Caitlyn swallowed hard, her thoughts tangling into knots.

Could they still fix this? Could they even try ?

Did she want to try? Or was she only doing this because she didn’t want to fail in her parents’ eyes?

Or maybe… maybe she did care. Or maybe she had just gotten used to Vi being there—to Vi always being there.

She sighed, rubbing her temple.

Whatever it was… she knew it wasn’t love.

So… was it even worth it anymore?

Chapter Text

Vi had spent the past week holed up in her condo, stewing over the fight with Caitlyn. No matter how much she tried to push it out of her mind, it stuck—nagging at her, replaying in loops she couldn’t stop.

Sarah had spent days trying to convince her to talk to Caitlyn, pushing the idea like she wasn’t the other woman in all of this. It had led to an argument, nothing explosive, but enough for Vi to snap and ask whose side Sarah was even on.

Sarah had just shaken her head and left for work. When she came back that evening, she was still pissed. They hadn’t had a proper conversation since.

Now, four days later, Sarah was packing up, getting ready to return to Bilgewater. She never stayed in Piltover long—only when her company needed her here. Outside of those visits, they didn’t talk, didn’t meet. The arrangement had always been simple: bed partners when they were in the same city, nothing else when they weren’t.

Vi walked into the bedroom, watching as Sarah neatly folded her clothes into a small suitcase. With a sigh, she finally spoke. "Are you still mad at me for not wanting to talk to Caitlyn?"

Sarah didn’t answer right away. She zipped up her bag, sat down on the bed, and finally looked up at Vi. "Do you even realize that what we’re doing is wrong?"

Vi blinked, caught off guard. "You know the situation with my marriage, Sarah."

Sarah scoffed. "That’s not what I asked." Her gaze was steady, her expression impossible to read. "I asked if you know that what we’re doing is wrong."

Sarah didn’t wait for Vi to answer. She just kept going. "Because regardless of the situation with your marriage, regardless of why you’re with another woman, it’s still wrong. You’re still married, Vi."

Vi clenched her jaw, looking away, but Sarah wasn’t done. "And for the longest time, all you ever complained about was that Caitlyn wasn’t trying. Well, guess what? She’s trying now. And you’re the one pushing her away."

Vi exhaled sharply, frustration tightening in her chest. "She’s only trying because I threatened a divorce."

Sarah scoffed. "So what?" Her voice was incredulous. "At least she’s trying to fix it instead of just signing the papers and walking away."

She sighed, shaking her head. "Isn’t this what you wanted? For Caitlyn to care? For her to show even a tiny bit of effort in your marriage?"

Without waiting for an answer, Sarah reached for a cigarette on the bedside table. She must have been stressed because she usually didn’t smoke around Vi—especially not in the bedroom, where she knew Vi hated it. But this time, she didn’t seem to care.

The lighter flicked, the flame caught, and she inhaled deeply before exhaling a slow stream of smoke. "You and Caitlyn need to talk. Like fucking grown adults." Her voice was tired, but firm. "You’ve both spent so much time not talking that your problems are turning into something bigger than they actually are."

Vi shook her head, scrunching her nose at the smell of the cigarette. "What’s even left to fix? What’s left of my marriage?" Her voice was quieter now, but just as tense. "I tried, Sarah. I tried so fucking hard to make it work, but Caitlyn just kept pushing me away."

The moment she said it, Sarah’s eyes snapped up, sharp and piercing. "Was she really pushing you away?" she asked.

Then, after a beat, she added, "Or was it just your expectations of her that made you think she wasn’t doing enough?"

Vi blinked at Sarah, frustration creeping into her chest. This conversation was starting to irritate her. Sarah was supposed to be on her side—they were sleeping together, for crying out loud. Vi had shared more with Sarah than she ever had with Caitlyn, so why the hell was she suddenly acting like Caitlyn’s defense attorney? It was annoying.

But Sarah’s question lingered, refusing to be ignored.

Had Vi’s expectations for her marriage really been too high?

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "I didn’t expect much from Caitlyn, Sarah. Just the bare minimum."

Sarah’s gaze didn’t waver. "And what exactly is your definition of the bare minimum?"

Vi opened her mouth to answer, but Sarah kept going. "And if I asked Caitlyn right now what her definition of the bare minimum was, would she give the exact same answer as you?"

Vi hesitated. She didn’t answer immediately—because for the first time, she realized she didn’t know.

If someone asked her Caitlyn’s favorite color, she could answer without a second thought. If they asked what Caitlyn’s nightly routine looked like, she could paint the picture in detail. But beyond that? The real things?

She barely knew her wife at all.

Vi ran a hand through her hair, frustration clear in every movement. "What exactly are you trying to say?"

Sarah took another slow drag of her cigarette, exhaling the smoke before finally answering. "I’m saying you can justify this all you want, but at the end of the day, you’re still cheating. This is still wrong."

Vi’s jaw tensed, but Sarah wasn’t finished. "Is Caitlyn right? No. Absolutely not. But she didn’t cheat on you. She didn’t sleep with anyone else. Did she fail in your marriage? Yeah. I won’t argue with that. But now, for whatever reason, she actually wants to fix things. And you? You’re pushing her away."

She flicked some ash into the tray beside her. "It doesn’t matter why Caitlyn suddenly wants to try. Just like it doesn’t matter why you cheated. At the end of the day, you still did it and she still is suggesting that you give your marriage one more try."

Vi scoffed, crossing her arms. "You talk like you weren’t right there with me as I was cheating on my wife."

Sarah didn’t even flinch. "Yeah. I was. I am." She tapped her cigarette against the ashtray, watching the embers fall. "But the difference between us? I know exactly what I’m doing. I know this is wrong. I’m not pretending it’s anything else."

She exhaled, shaking her head. "That’s why I’m telling you to talk to your wife. Actually talk to her. Try to fix it. Because guess what, Vi? Even if you go through with this divorce, you’re not gonna start dating someone new. You’re gonna stay right here, lingering with me until either I get tired of this and break it off, or you do something stupid like propose marriage."

She met Vi’s gaze, her expression firm. "And we both know—at least I do—that I have no plans of marrying you. I’m not gonna be the mistress who became the wife."

Vi let out a long sigh, leaning back against the wall before sliding down until she was sitting on the floor. Sarah had finished her cigarette, snuffing it out in the ashtray, and now they just sat there, neither of them speaking, the weight of everything hanging between them.

After a while, Vi finally broke the silence. "So… what happens to us now?"

Sarah didn’t look at her when she answered. "I might not come back to Piltover for a while. And even if I do, it’s probably best we don’t meet up anymore."

Vi frowned, then asked, "Are you feeling guilty?"

Sarah scoffed, shaking her head. "I’d be guilty if I was the one who ruined your marriage. But Vi, your marriage was already broken when I came into the picture. There wasn’t much left to destroy."

Despite her words, Sarah’s tone softened, less sharp than before. "But even so, I’m not gonna stick around and make things worse. Your wife is actually trying to fix what’s left of your marriage. And I may be a lot of things, but I’m not the kind of person who kicks someone when they’re already down."

Her voice dropped even lower, quieter now. "And… I know you still care about Caitlyn."

Vi’s head snapped up at that, but Sarah didn’t back down. "You can bury those feelings as deep as you want, but you didn’t bury them far enough. Because even now, you’re still thinking about her. You still care. And if you didn’t, you would’ve already gone to your parents, pushed through with the divorce, no matter what Caitlyn had on you."

Vi scoffed, letting out a dry chuckle. "And what am I supposed to do with that, Sarah? Even if I wanted to fix things, I already fucked it up even more. Our marriage was doomed, sure, but I cheated. I had a mistress for almost a year. How the hell do I come back from that?"

Sarah shrugged, leaning back on her hands. "I don’t know." She smirked slightly. "But I do know that if I were Caitlyn, and you cheated on me—regardless of the reason—I’d make your life a living hell."

She paused for a second, then shrugged again. "Maybe that’s why Caitlyn won’t sign the divorce papers. Maybe she doesn’t want to give you the chance to be happy with someone else."

Vi frowned. "You really think she’d do that?"

Sarah stood up, dusting off her pants. "No. Only a woman who loved her spouse at some point would be bitter enough to keep them around out of spite. And from everything you’ve told me, I don’t think Caitlyn loves you enough to keep you just to be petty."

Vi groaned, pushing herself up off the floor. "Thanks for the reminder that my wife doesn’t love me," she said dryly.

Sarah chuckled softly before grabbing her bag from the bed. She paused at the doorway, then, without hesitation, wrapped her arms around Vi. Her voice was quiet, almost gentle as she whispered, "Talk to Caitlyn. Talk about everything that went wrong in your marriage and figure out how to fix it."

Then she pulled away, pressing a brief kiss to Vi’s cheek. "It’s not too late for you two. Not really."

Vi let out a long sigh. "I don’t even know how to fix things anymore. I don’t know if I even want to."

Sarah chuckled, shaking her head. "You do want to, Vi. You wouldn’t be this torn up over it if you didn’t." She grabbed the strap of her bag and adjusted it over her shoulder before sighing. "You should probably call your wife soon. Talk things out before those tabloid rumors spiral even more."

Vi nodded. "Yeah… I will."

She didn’t hug Sarah back. She didn’t watch her leave. She didn’t even say goodbye. Their relationship was never like that, and she wasn’t about to start pretending it was something more.

But Sarah—she was right. Vi had fucked up. And this wasn’t the kind of mistake that could be fixed with a simple I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.

Letting out another long breath, Vi grabbed her phone and dialed her lawyer’s number. As the line rang, she started pacing. When Jayce finally picked up, Vi didn’t waste time. "Set up a meeting with Caitlyn and her lawyer. Neutral ground. Maybe a nice restaurant or something. Public, but not too public—I don’t want the tabloids making a bigger mess out of this."

On the other end of the call, Jayce hummed in thought before asking, "Do you want me to bring the divorce papers?"

Vi closed her eyes, exhaling sharply. "No. And make sure to tell Medarda the same. No misunderstandings. Just let them know I want to talk to my wife."

Jayce hummed again, then after a moment, his tone softened. "As your lawyer, I’ll give you some free advice. If you want to talk to your wife, maybe start by actually calling her. Tell her you need to talk. Then go home."

Vi groaned. "I don’t pay you for free advice, Jayce."

Jayce laughed. "Exactly why I gave it for free." Then his voice turned professional again. "I’ll call Medarda and set up the meeting. I’ll let you know when it’s done."

And with that, he hung up.

Caitlyn was reviewing documentation for the court hearing on the corrupt enforcer when her phone rang. Sentencing was scheduled for next week, and while she wasn’t part of the jury or directly involved in the trial, she was still expected to go through the proceedings. It was her responsibility to ensure that no rights had been violated, that the trial had been fair for both the prosecution and the defense.

This wasn’t usually part of her job, but given that the accused was part of Piltover’s government agency, extra scrutiny was necessary. The law must apply to all or none at all. That was what her mother had always told her. That was how the Kirammans made their decisions—how they cast their votes. Fairness above all else.

She exhaled, leaning back in her chair, closing her eyes for just a second to rest them. But the moment she did, Vi’s face surfaced in her mind. And the first thought that followed was that, as fair as she tried to be in her work, she had been anything but fair to Vi.

Her phone buzzed again, pulling her from the thought. When she picked up, it was Mel.

"Talis and Associates just called," Mel said, her tone unreadable. "They want to set up a meeting between you and Vi. Apparently, Vi said she wants to talk to her wife."

Caitlyn sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "If she wanted to talk, why not just call me herself? It’s not like I’d ignore her."

Mel only hummed in response.

Caitlyn let out another sigh. "Fine. Set up the meeting and have all the necessary documents ready."

"Actually," Mel said, "Jayce told me there’s no need for the divorce papers. Vi just wants to talk."

Caitlyn frowned. "She could have called. Or better yet, she could have just come home already."

She shook her head, rubbing her temple. "Fine. Let me know when and where, and I’ll be there."

After hanging up, Caitlyn's eyes drifted back to the papers in front of her, but her focus was completely shot. The tabloids, as irritating as they were, hadn’t let up with their headlines. And the longer people went without seeing her and Vi together, the harder they pushed their narrative about the separation.

At this point, most of what they printed wasn’t even speculation anymore—it was the truth. Vi wasn’t coming home. They were getting a divorce. Their marriage had been a façade from the start.

Her parents had already called, and she’d taken the full force of their disappointment. Both her mother and father had given her an earful, their frustration sharp, their expectations still looming over her like a weight she couldn’t shake. And yet, even through all the yelling, Caitlyn hadn’t told them about Vi’s affair.

She could have. It would have changed everything. It would have cleared her of blame, made it easier to tell them the marriage wasn’t working out. But she didn’t. She wouldn’t.

Because Vi was still her spouse. And that meant something.

More than that, she didn’t want Vi at odds with her parents. They adored Vi, even before the marriage. Vi had been their only choice for Caitlyn. And Caitlyn wasn’t about to be the one to ruin the image they had of her.

Their marriage had problems—fine. That was something they needed to deal with on their own, without their families meddling, without opinions being thrown in from every direction.

She inhaled deeply, groaning as she leaned back in her chair.

A part of her knew she was at fault. But another part of her kept insisting that she had done exactly what was expected of her.

Those two parts of her could fight all they wanted, but it didn’t change the fact that she and Vi needed to deal with this.

Because if she saw one more tabloid headline about them, she was going to lose it.

She sighed, forcing herself to refocus on the documents in front of her. There was still a mountain of work to get through, and her personal life had to take a backseat. She was just about to push everything aside and concentrate on her job when her phone buzzed again with a text from Mel.

"Piltover Heritage Hotel and Restaurant, 6PM tonight. Reservation for four under Mrs. Caitlyn Lanes-Kiramman."

She stared at the message.

"Mrs. Lanes-Kiramman."

Proof that she was still married—if only in name.

Chapter Text

Piltover Heritage Hotel and Restaurant had been around since the beginning of time—or at least, it felt that way. The grand establishment had served some of the most notable figures across Runeterra. Ambassadors, politicians, and Piltover and Zaun’s most famous names had all walked through its doors.

Caitlyn had always loved this place. The food was exceptional, and the interior carried a sense of nostalgia, steeped in history and old money. Nothing had changed since the hotel was built nearly two hundred years ago.

When she arrived—alone—the receptionist immediately recognized her and led her to a private lounge, one usually reserved for Piltover’s council members. It was the kind of privilege she enjoyed but found completely unnecessary.

The lounge offered privacy, shielding its guests from prying eyes. The room itself was simple yet spacious, designed to seat around twelve people at once. Grand, but in a way that felt just a little too pretentious.

She took her seat at the head of the table. She was early, which gave her time to organize the documents she had brought. This was going to be a long discussion, but if there was any chance of saving their marriage, she and Vi needed to have it.

Sure, Vi wanted out. Caitlyn couldn’t blame her for feeling that way. But no matter how Vi felt now, she had to listen to reason.

After a few minutes, Mel finally arrived. It was forty-five minutes past five, which meant Vi and Jayce Talis, her attorney, still had enough time to show up.

Mel took a seat beside Caitlyn, glancing at the documents spread out on the table. "What’s all this?" she asked.

Caitlyn didn’t even look up. "The marriage agreement," she said simply. "Everything that was discussed when our wedding was arranged. The terms we both had to understand and agree to before we could even get married."

Mel raised an eyebrow. "I thought this was just a conversation between you and Vi. Why are you bringing out legal documents?"

Caitlyn shrugged, flipping through the pages. "Because I need the facts in front of us. I need to see how much of it Vi actually understood. That way, I can meet her halfway."

Mel let out a sharp breath, shaking her head. "Why are you even trying? You never wanted this marriage in the first place."

Caitlyn sighed, finally looking up. "No, I didn’t. But I agreed to it. I signed this contract. That means I understood what was at stake, and I have to comply with it."

Mel’s eyes narrowed. "Why?"

Caitlyn pressed her lips together, but Mel wasn’t letting it go. "Vi wants out, Cait. Just let her go."

Caitlyn exhaled slowly. "If I do that, the political alliances we built, the unity we forged between Piltover and Zaun—it could all start falling apart."

Mel huffed, crossing her arms. "And that’s reason enough to stay trapped in a miserable marriage?"

Caitlyn shrugged again. "Whether I’m happy or not isn’t the issue. It’s not even important. What matters is that the marriage was negotiated, the terms were explained, and we both agreed to them before taking our vows. Our feelings were never part of the arrangement."

Mel stared at her for a long moment, then shook her head. "I can’t believe you’re this cold."

Before Caitlyn could respond to Mel, the doors opened, and a waiter led Attorney Jayce Talis and Vi inside.

Caitlyn stood, as politeness dictated, and greeted Jayce first, shaking his hand firmly before turning to Vi. She only gave her a small nod—Vi, who looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here.

Jayce and Mel exchanged a brief handshake, while Vi sank into the chair beside Caitlyn without a word. But before Jayce could take his own seat, Caitlyn spoke up. "I want privacy for this conversation. If you could direct your lawyer elsewhere, I’d appreciate it."

Vi sighed, already looking irritated. "Whatever you need to say, you can say it in front of Jayce."

Caitlyn shook her head. "No. This is between us. Our lawyers don’t need to be involved in this part of the discussion. I’d prefer to speak to you alone."

Vi let out a dry chuckle, shaking her head. "Then what’s the point of having them here if they’re not going to listen?"

Caitlyn met her gaze evenly. "They’ll have their moment—after we talk."

Vi exhaled through her nose, clearly frustrated, but eventually turned to Jayce and gave him a nod. Caitlyn did the same with Mel, and with that, both lawyers moved to the far end of the table.

Caitlyn turned to them one last time. "Order food and drinks while you wait. This might take a while."

And with that, it was just the two of them.

The room felt too quiet the second the lawyers settled on the far side of the dining table, as if even the air didn’t want to get caught in the mess between Caitlyn and Vi. Neither of them spoke at first. Caitlyn shifted in her chair, fingers tapping against the table, while Vi just sat and stared at her wife, looking like she wanted to say something but didn't know how.

Caitlyn was the first to crack. She cleared her throat, eyes flicking up. “So… what did you want to talk about?”

Vi didn’t answer right away. She ran her tongue over her teeth, exhaled sharply through her nose, then finally muttered, “I’m not seeing her anymore. It’s over.”

Caitlyn nodded. Just that—one nod, like Vi had told her it was supposed to rain later. “Okay,” she said, voice calm. Then, after a beat, “Was that all?”

Vi let out a long breath, looking down at the table, at the crisp edge of the documents in front of Caitlyn. “No.” Her jaw tightened. “I wanted to talk about… trying again.” The words felt heavy, awkward, but she pushed through. “Though I don’t get why you even want to. Divorce makes more sense.”

Caitlyn’s fingers skimmed the edge of the marriage agreement, tracing the same line over and over. “I don’t disagree,” she admitted. “But we had terms, Vi. When we got married, we agreed on things. And I held up my end.”

Vi scoffed, a sharp, humorless sound. “Of course you did.”

Caitlyn sighed, pressing her lips together. “I know you wanted more,” she said, quiet but firm. “I always knew. But you never said it.”

Vi’s head snapped up. “I had to say it?” She let out a bitter laugh. “Come on, Cait, you knew. You knew, and you still—” She shook her head, leaning back in her chair. “Did I really have to spell it out for you?”

“Yes,” Caitlyn said simply. “You did. How am I supposed to be sure of what you want if you never say it out loud?"

She didn’t wait for Vi’s response. Instead, she reached for the stack of papers, pulled out a copy, and slid it across the table. “I held up my end of the agreement,” she said, voice steady. “Of what we agreed on.”

She met Vi’s gaze, expression steady. "Feelings were never part of the agreement. Making this marriage real was never part of it either."

Vi stared at the paper, then at Caitlyn, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes. Her fingers clenched against the armrest. “So that’s all this was to you?” Her voice was low, rough. “Just an agreement? A contract? A damn transaction?”

Caitlyn didn’t blink. Didn’t hesitate. Just met Vi’s gaze and nodded. "Yes. That’s all it ever was."

Vi scoffed, shaking her head. "If that’s all this ever was to you, then why not just agree to the divorce?"

Caitlyn sighed, pressing her lips together for a moment before licking them briefly, like she was choosing her words carefully. "Because of two reasons," she finally said.

She straightened slightly. "First, if we go through with the divorce, our parents' relationship might suffer. The union between our cities could be damaged. Everything they worked to build—the alliances, the business opportunities, the political leverage—we might lose all of it."

Vi exhaled, slumping back in her chair. She knew this already. Their marriage had done a lot of good for both cities. Their parents had used it as a foundation, a bargaining chip for policies and agreements that had, objectively, benefited Piltover and Zaun.

After a moment, she muttered, "And the second reason?"

Caitlyn hesitated, then met Vi’s eyes. There was no frustration in them now, no cold distance—just something steady, something resigned. "You were right," she admitted. "Divorce would mean failure on my part. Because I couldn’t even keep my own spouse happy. I couldn’t make this marriage work. I don't want to be a failure, especially not in the eyes of my parents."

She took a slow breath, gaze flickering to the papers between them before settling back on Vi. "And… if we do go through with it, I know exactly what’s going to happen next. My parents will just marry me off to someone else. Someone whose alliance they find useful."

A humorless chuckle left her lips. "And frankly, I’d rather stay married to you."

Vi looked at Caitlyn, then at the stack of documents between them. Her eyes flickered toward their lawyers at the far end of the room before she leaned back in her chair, arms crossed.

Hearing Caitlyn’s reasons didn’t really change anything. It wasn’t like Vi hadn’t expected them. But hearing Caitlyn say she’d rather stay married to her? That part stuck. And she didn’t know how to feel about it.

Should she be happy that Caitlyn would rather be with her than anyone else? Or pissed that she felt like an option—the best option, maybe, but still just an option?

Exhaling, Vi picked up their marriage agreement, scanning the familiar terms before glancing back at Caitlyn. "Do you want to renegotiate this?"

Caitlyn shook her head. "No. It doesn’t make sense to. The terms are fine."

Vi gave her a long, skeptical look, but before she could argue, Caitlyn grabbed a blank sheet of paper and a pen. She slid them across the table toward Vi.

"I'd like for you to write down what you expect from me in this marriage," Caitlyn said. "What you want me to do. What you need from me."

Vi let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. "You’re seriously asking me to list my expectations? Like a grocery list? Like some chore you need to check off every day?"

Caitlyn groaned, rubbing her temples. "That’s not what this is." Her voice was tight, frustration creeping in. "I’m not asking you to write them down so I can treat them like a daily task. It’s not a chore, Vi. I just want to know what you need from me. So I can meet those needs. So I can actually do something about it. You complain that I don't put enough effort in this marriage and now that I'm actually trying to understand what you need and put in the effort you want, you question it."

Vi scoffed, shaking her head. "Why does everything have to be spelled out for you?"

Caitlyn’s jaw clenched. "Because I don’t know what goes on in your head, Vi. I can’t guess what you want. And if we’re actually going to try—if we’re even considering making this marriage work—we have to be on the same page."

She gestured at the paper. "I’m trying to get us there."

Caitlyn sighed, her voice softer now. "Just write them down, please. So we can talk about it. So I can understand what you need."

Vi looked at the blank sheet of paper in front of her, fingers fidgeting with the pen Caitlyn had handed her. The request felt strange, too formal, too structured—like Caitlyn was trying to fix their marriage the same way she’d negotiate a trade deal. After a beat, Vi asked, "Why am I the only one writing this? What about your expectations?"

Caitlyn shrugged. "I only have two. So writing them down isn’t necessary."

Vi frowned slightly, tapping the pen against the table. "And what are those two?"

Caitlyn hesitated, her gaze flickering away for a second before she faced Vi again. "If we’re really going to try and save whatever’s left of this marriage, then I only need two things from you." Her voice was measured, even. "Never lie to me. And never cheat on me."

Vi’s grip tightened around the pen.

Caitlyn exhaled, her expression cold. "Finding out you had a mistress didn’t hurt me, Vi. It didn’t even offend me. I was just… surprised." She tilted her head slightly. "But if you want this marriage to be real—if you expect me to invest feelings and effort into it—then I expect you to respect our vows. I expect you to treat me like a wife who would be hurt if you had an affair. Because I’m not going to put emotions into something that’s only going to be disrespected later on."

Vi swallowed hard, the pen slipping from her fingers as she placed it gently on the table. She scooted her chair closer, lowering her voice. "I’m sorry, Cait." The words felt heavy, almost unfamiliar. "I was wrong. I shouldn’t have done that. I should’ve separated from you first before I—"

"I don’t need your apology," Caitlyn cut in, shaking her head. "We never discussed the possibility of an affair. We never talked about what would happen if one of us strayed. Maybe our parents just didn’t think it would happen."

She sighed, rubbing her temples before looking back at Vi. "We can move on from it. It doesn’t matter anymore."

Then, more firmly, she added, "But if you really want more from me—more from this marriage—then an affair, another mistress…" She shook her head. "That’s out of the question."

Vi nodded slowly, her voice quiet. "Do you really think we can fix this?" She hesitated, then asked, "Do you really want to make this real? And why now? After five years of pushing me away?"

Caitlyn shook her head. "I wasn’t pushing you away. I was just…"

She didn’t finish.

Vi did. "Just following what was written in the terms of our marriage, right?"

Caitlyn sighed and nodded, looking away.

Vi sighed, her fingers gripping the pen, the tip hovering over the paper. "What kind of expectations am I even supposed to write?" Her voice was flat, edged with frustration.

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "This feels like you’re asking me to write a wishlist. It’s stupid. It’s ridiculous."

Caitlyn didn’t flinch. "You’re free to think of it that way," she said evenly. "But writing them down will help."

Vi gave her a long look, searching for something—maybe a sign that Caitlyn was just messing with her. "Fine. But what exactly am I supposed to put here?"

Caitlyn sighed, her patience wearing thin. "Whatever you want." She gestured toward the paper. "If you want us to have breakfast or dinner together, write it down. If you expect us to take regular trips as a couple or be more public with our relationship, put that too. It doesn’t matter if it’s something small or big—just write what you want."

Vi stared at her for a second longer before shaking her head, like she thought this whole thing was a waste of time. But she did it anyway.

For a few minutes, there was only the sound of pen scratching against paper. Then, finally, Vi slid the sheet toward Caitlyn.

Caitlyn picked it up, eyes scanning the list. She started reading them aloud.

"Breakfast together before work."

"Dinner together at night."

"Date night once a week—indoors or outdoors."

"Holidays every three months outside of Piltover."

"Monthly discussions about our lives, what we’ve been up to, what we’re working on."

"Weekly bonding through cooking together."

"Grocery shopping together every 2 weeks."

Vi’s face turned red before Caitlyn even reached the end. "Read it quietly," she hissed. "Jayce and Mel might hear."

Caitlyn arched an eyebrow. "I thought you didn’t care if our lawyers heard?"

Vi groaned, running a hand over her face. "Not that part."

Caitlyn shrugged and continued reading silently. When she finished, she placed the paper down and licked her lips before glancing at Vi. "These are… very basic."

Vi rolled her eyes. "I couldn’t think of anything else under pressure, alright? Maybe we can revisit when I come up with something new."

Caitlyn set the paper down, licking her lips as she considered something. Then she looked at Vi and asked, "Why didn’t you write anything about intimacy?"

Vi shot a quick glance at Jayce and Mel before leaning in slightly, lowering her voice. "Did you actually expect me to write down my sexual needs on that damn paper too?"

Caitlyn met her gaze without hesitation. "Yes. Of course, I did. Otherwise, how would I know if you wanted to have sex or not?"

Vi groaned, rubbing her face with both hands. "We don’t have to discuss that. We can just… feel it."

Caitlyn let out a slow breath, shaking her head. "‘Feeling it’ would mean that sex comes naturally to us. It doesn’t." Her voice was steady, matter-of-fact. "Maybe for you, but not for me. I have to know. I have to be prepared for it."

Vi’s eyes flickered with annoyance before she asked, "So you really don’t like having sex with me at all?"

Then, before Caitlyn could answer, Vi scoffed, shaking her head. "Not that I should be surprised. You’ve never enjoyed it, Cait. You just lay there, waiting for it to be over. Even when you’re in heat, it’s like…"

She exhaled sharply, looking away. "Like fucking a corpse."

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. "Have you ever fucked a corpse before to know what that feels like?"

Vi’s mouth opened, ready to snap back, but before she could, Caitlyn spoke again—quieter this time.

"I enjoyed the first time we had sex."

The words lingered between them, cutting through the frustration in the air. But before Vi could react, Caitlyn cleared her throat and shifted back to the topic at hand. "Anyway. You still haven’t written down anything about intimacy."

Vi shook her head, running a hand through her hair. "What do you even want me to put there?"

Caitlyn shrugged, her voice calm, methodical. "Anything. How many times a week do you want to have sex? Do you prefer mornings before work or evenings before bed? Are there particular sexual positions you want?"

With every question, Vi’s face grew redder, her discomfort more obvious.

Vi hissed under her breath. "Alright, enough already." She let out a sigh, rubbing her temple. "How about you be the one to initiate intimacy instead of me?"

Caitlyn stared at her like she had just suggested something absurd. "You do realize that I’m not exactly the most sexual person, right? If you wait for me to initiate, we could probably go ten years without sex."

Vi let out a short laugh. "Yeah… I don’t doubt that at all."

Then she tilted her head, thinking for a moment. "Okay. What if we do it twice a week? But you have to initiate."

Caitlyn groaned. "Why me? You’re the one who wants it."

Vi leaned back in her chair, arms crossing. "Because this way, I know you won’t say no or push me away or come up with an excuse not to. If you initiate, then that’s already settled."

Caitlyn sighed, rubbing at her temple before nodding. "Fine. But even if you expect me to initiate, you can still initiate too—just give me time to adjust or prepare."

Vi squinted at her. "So… like texting you in the afternoon to let you know I wanna have sex when we get home? Or do I need to book it three days in advance?"

For the first time that night, Caitlyn let out a small amused smile. "Three hours prior is enough prep time."

Vi chuckled, shaking her head. "I can’t believe we’re scheduling our sex life like it’s a discussion about the weather."

Caitlyn picked up the pen and wrote down the additional terms beneath Vi’s expectations. Then, beneath them, she added her own two conditions. Without hesitation, she signed her name and slid the paper across the table.

Vi read over everything again, exhaling before signing her name as well.

Caitlyn took the paper and gestured toward Mel at the far end of the table. "Notarize this. Send a copy to Jayce, keep one for yourself, and send both Vi and me a copy."

Vi groaned, dropping her head back. "Why do our lawyers have to see this?"

Caitlyn shrugged. "Just to have documentation."

Then, without missing a beat, she asked, "When are you coming home?"

Vi sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "Tonight. I’ll come home with you tonight."

Caitlyn nodded, satisfied. "Good."

After putting the documents away, their lawyers finally joined them at their end of the table, and they ate dinner together. No one brought up Caitlyn and Vi’s marriage—conversation steered toward politics and sports instead, an easy distraction from the tension that had filled the room earlier.

When it was time to leave, Caitlyn and Vi walked out of the restaurant together. Since they had both brought their own cars, Vi made a quick decision, telling Caitlyn to let her drive her car home while instructing Caitlyn’s bodyguard and driver, Sevika, to take Mel and Jayce instead.

The drive back was quiet.

When they finally arrived at their townhouse, they settled into their usual nighttime routine, getting ready for bed in separate but familiar movements. It wasn’t until Caitlyn was putting away the last of her jewelry that Vi broke the silence.

"Do you really need me to say it out loud? To tell you what I want before you actually do something about it?"

Caitlyn sighed, turning slightly to face Vi. Her voice was calm, steady. "I’m a factual person. I don’t rely on guesswork or assumptions. I need you to tell me what you want."

Vi sat down on the edge of the bed, her movements slower, more deliberate. "I want this marriage to work out," she admitted, eyes flickering up to meet Caitlyn’s. "I want us both to actually try. And if after a year, it’s still not working, we move forward with the divorce."

Caitlyn nodded once, considering her words.

Then Vi added, "I also want to kiss you."

Caitlyn hesitated, only for a second, before stepping closer. She leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Vi’s cheek. "There. A kiss."

Vi exhaled, hands settling lightly at Caitlyn’s waist. "On the lips, please."

Chapter Text

Caitlyn placed her hands on Vi’s shoulders, hesitating for only a moment before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. It was light, fleeting—over before it could turn into anything more.

Vi raised an eyebrow, watching her closely. "So… you don’t enjoy kissing me either?"

Caitlyn sighed, shifting slightly where she stood. "It’s not that. I’m just not used to it. We don’t really… kiss."

Her fingers absently toyed with the fabric of Vi’s shirt as she thought about it. "Since we got married, we’ve probably only kissed four or five times."

Vi nodded, considering that for a second before a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Maybe I should add that to my expectations—daily kisses."

Caitlyn glanced at her, then shrugged. "Fine. We can add that."

She pulled back, carefully slipping Vi’s hands off her waist. "We should sleep."

Vi didn’t argue, just exhaled and nodded before heading to bed. Caitlyn followed, settling into her usual spot—on her side, facing away.

For the past five years, they had shared this bed, but that was all it was—shared space, a formality. Aside from the occasional, transactional intimacy, they never reached for each other. Never tangled under the sheets. Never crossed that invisible line between them.

Come to think of it, they could’ve just slept in separate rooms, in different beds entirely. But they never did. And Caitlyn had never questioned it. She never suggested Vi sleep elsewhere, and Vi never made a move to leave.

She glanced over at Vi, who was fluffing her pillow, shifting to get comfortable. Before long, Vi’s breathing slowed, and she drifted into sleep.

Caitlyn, though, lay awake, staring at the ceiling.

Her mind wouldn’t shut off. Those expectations Vi had written down—so basic, so simple—and yet, somehow, Caitlyn had never met them.

The thought wouldn’t leave her alone.

Finally, she pushed back the covers and slipped out of bed. In the quiet of her office, she powered on her laptop and typed into the search bar:

"What makes marriages last?"

The search engine flooded her screen with results, countless videos and articles promising to reveal the secret to a lasting marriage. She clicked on one, trying—really trying—to understand what she needed to do to make this work.

Halfway through, she groaned, rubbing her temples.

This wasn’t helping.

The couple in the video was glowing, all soft smiles and warm glances as they rattled off advice: Never stop courting each other. Laugh every day. Prioritize intimacy—not just physical. Embrace and cherish imperfections.

Caitlyn exhaled sharply through her nose.

None of this applied to her.

Her marriage with Vi wasn’t some love story about soulmates who met young or locked eyes across a crowded room and just knew. There was no falling, no butterflies, no breathless anticipation. Their marriage had been an agreement—practical, strategic, a move that benefited their families. Nothing more.

She didn’t love Vi. Vi didn’t love her.

So how the hell was she supposed to follow advice built on something that didn’t exist between them?

A soft knock broke her thoughts.

The office door creaked open, and Vi stood there, looking groggy, now wearing a tank top instead of her usual sleep shirt. She rubbed at her eyes, voice thick with sleep. "Why are you still working? You never work this late."

Caitlyn blinked at her, then shut the laptop. "Just doing some research."

Vi stepped inside, moving closer. "What research?"

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. "Why do you care?"

Vi groaned. "Because in the five years we’ve lived together, I’ve never seen you get out of bed after laying down. You don’t work late either. So what’s going on?"

Caitlyn shook her head. "It’s nothing."

Vi huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. The way her muscles flexed slightly as she did it—Caitlyn ignored that. "Can we just be honest with each other?" Vi muttered. "Or does honesty not count because I forgot to add that to my little list of expectations?"

Caitlyn sighed, a quiet sound of defeat. "If you must know, I was watching a video about marriage."

Vi lowered her arms to her side, her thumbs hooking on her sweatpants, brow furrowing. "Why?"

Caitlyn hesitated, then exhaled. "Because the more I understand what makes marriages work, the more I can do my part."

Vi scoffed, shaking her head. "You know what this feels like? Like I’m part of some damn thesis you’re working on. Like I’m a subject you’re researching instead of your spouse."

Caitlyn stayed quiet, jaw tightening, but Vi kept going.

"You’re not doing this because you actually want to—you're doing it because you feel like you have to. And that stupid list you made me write? It’s just a damn checklist for you to follow, right? Like if you do everything on it, I’ll magically stay, and everything will be fine."

That did it.

Caitlyn shot up so fast her chair scraped against the floor. Her hands slammed onto the table, the sharp thud slicing through the space between them. Vi flinched—barely—but Caitlyn saw it.

Good. Let her be surprised.

She took a slow breath, forcing her voice to stay even, controlled. "I’m not like you, Vi." Her fingers curled into fists against the desk. "I don’t react the way you do. I don’t just... feel my way through things without thinking first. But that doesn’t mean I’m not trying."

Vi opened her mouth, but Caitlyn wasn’t done.

"This? Right now? This is me trying. This is me putting in effort. And if you actually gave a damn, maybe you could let me figure things out in the way that makes sense to me."

She stepped forward then, slow, careful, hands catching onto the hem of Vi’s shirt—not pulling her closer, not pushing her away. Just holding on, grounding herself.

"I want to try." Her voice was quieter now, steadier. "But you can’t rush me. I need time. I need to process things, to learn them. It's like... I'm like a goldfish, you have to acclimate me in the water I'm gonna be living in before you throw me in the aquarium."

Vi sighed, tension melting from her shoulders as she understands Caitlyn's analogy. Then her hands found Caitlyn’s waist, her thumbs traced slow circles over Caitlyn’s shirt, something absentminded, something easy.

"How can you be so damn smart and still be so..." Vi trailed off, shaking her head with a soft chuckle. "So fucking clueless."

Caitlyn didn’t argue. She just held onto Vi’s shirt like she wasn’t quite ready to let go.

Vi let out a slow breath. "Fine. I’ll give you time to acclimate like the goldfish you are." Then she smirked, tilting her head. "But we really need to talk more, you know?"

Caitlyn exhaled. "Yes. We should."

Vi’s smirk widened. "So... what did you learn from your little marriage research?"

Caitlyn rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away. "That married couples who are actually in love are nauseating. Corny. Cringey."

Vi laughed, nodding. "That sounds about right."

Caitlyn huffed. "I can’t imagine ever being like that." Then, more hesitantly, she glanced at Vi. "Do you like that kind of thing? The nauseating, corny, cringey stuff?"

Vi’s smile softened. "I like it if it’s real. If it’s not forced."

Caitlyn nodded. "Well, you don’t have to worry about me forcing it. I wouldn’t even try."

Vi chuckled, then—without thinking, without hesitating—she leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Caitlyn’s lips.

Caitlyn froze. Not because she minded, but because she wasn’t expecting it.

Vi’s lips were warm. And Caitlyn… didn’t hate it.

Vi pulled back, smirking. "Yeah. I know." Then she stretched, running a hand through her hair. "Can we go back to bed now?"

Caitlyn exhaled, shaking off whatever that moment had been. "Yeah. Research didn’t help me anyway."

Caitlyn jolted awake, heart pounding before her brain even caught up, that hazy in-between state where everything feels urgent for no reason—except this time, there was a reason. Breakfast. Right. Vi had expected them to have breakfast together, and Caitlyn had promised herself—sworn, really—that she’d be up early for it. But as she grabbed her phone off the nightstand, barely squinting at the screen, her stomach sank. 8:15 AM.

“Ugh, great.” She groaned, shoving a hand through her hair, frustration prickling at the edges of her sleep-heavy mind. The first morning of them actually trying—like really trying—to fix things, and she’d already screwed it up.

Still half-tangled in blankets, she tapped Vi’s number, pressing the phone to her ear as she climbed out of bed and started toward the stairs. It rang twice before Vi picked up.

“Morning.” Vi’s voice was light, teasing. Caitlyn could hear the hum of the car’s engine in the background.

“Where are you?” Caitlyn asked, stepping into the kitchen, even though she already knew the answer.

“Driving. On my way to work.”

Caitlyn sighed, gaze flicking across the table. Toast. Scrambled eggs. Jam off to the side. The coffee machine still brewing, the warm, familiar scent wrapping around her like something solid.

“I thought we were supposed to have breakfast together,” she muttered, sinking into one of the dining chairs.

“We were,” Vi said, “but you were still asleep.”

“You could’ve woken me up.”

Vi chuckled, the kind of low, knowing laugh that made Caitlyn’s irritation spike just a little. “When have I ever woken you up?”

Caitlyn frowned, poking at the eggs with her fork. “I—” She paused. Thought about it. Came up blank. “…Never.”

“Exactly.”

Caitlyn stabbed her fork into the eggs, pushing them around her plate, not sure why the whole thing annoyed her so much. “Then how are we supposed to have breakfast together if you won’t wake me up?”

Vi hummed, like she hadn’t really considered that. “We’ll figure it out.”

And just like that, she moved on.

“I gotta go,” Vi said after a beat. “Just pulled up to the office.”

Caitlyn sighed, rubbing her temple. “Okay. I’ll get ready for work too.”

“See you later.”

“Yeah. See you.”

They hung up, and Caitlyn set her phone down, eyes drifting back to the plate in front of her. For years, she’d ignored these breakfasts, brushed them off like they didn’t matter. But now, staring at it, something quiet settled in her chest. She’d missed this—not the food, not really. Just the fact that Vi had always left it there, like some kind of ritual or promise. A sign that, even when things weren’t great, they were still… okay.

She’d eat after her shower. With one last glance at the table, she pushed to her feet and headed upstairs to get ready for work.

Caitlyn was halfway through getting dressed when her phone started ringing, the sudden ringing from downstairs making her squint in confusion. Who the hell was calling her this early? She huffed, yanking her blouse over her shoulders but not bothering to button it, grabbing her blazer and bag in one hand while she hurried downstairs, slipping on her earrings as she went. The phone was still ringing by the time she reached the kitchen.

She grabbed it off the counter, glanced at the screen—Vi. Video call.

Caitlyn swiped to answer, and immediately, Vi’s face filled the screen, grinning like she was up to something.

“Why are you calling me?” Caitlyn asked, giving her a suspicious look.

Vi cleared her throat dramatically and lifted a pastry into view, followed by a to-go cup of coffee. “So we can have breakfast together,” she said, smug as hell.

Caitlyn snorted, pulling her own plate of food toward her. “This feels like one of those cringey long-distance couple things,” she muttered, shaking her head.

Vi laughed, tipping her coffee toward the camera. “Yeah, well. You’re not wrong.”

Rolling her eyes, Caitlyn grabbed a glass from the table, propped her phone against it so she wouldn’t have to hold it, and started eating. It was easy, comfortable—until Vi cleared her throat, a little too forcefully, and Caitlyn glanced at the screen.

Vi was blushing.

“What?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Vi rubbed the back of her neck, looking both embarrassed and vaguely exasperated. “Uh. Your blouse is still open.”

Caitlyn blinked, then looked down. Right. Completely unbuttoned.

She looked back at the screen, unimpressed. “Okay? You’ve seen me naked before.”

Vi groaned. “Cait, I know you don’t think about this stuff, but I do. You may not be the most sexual person when it comes to your spouse, but I am, and my body still very much reacts to—” she gestured vaguely at the screen, then sighed. “Just… be a little considerate and button up before my pants get any tighter. Please.”

Caitlyn held Vi’s gaze, smirking slightly as she reached for the buttons, fastening them one by one. And then, just as Vi was mid-sip of coffee, Caitlyn casually asked, “Do you want to have sex later? Before bed?”

Vi choked.

Vi did not expect to hear those words from her wife first thing in the morning. Okay, sure, it was already past nine, but still—too early for that.

She wiped her mouth with her handkerchief, setting her coffee down a little harder than necessary, eyes locked on Caitlyn through the phone screen. Caitlyn, for her part, looked completely unbothered, serious even, like she had just asked if Vi wanted to pick up groceries later instead of—well, that.

Vi squinted. “You serious?”

Caitlyn didn’t even blink. Just tilted her head slightly, like why wouldn’t I be?

Which—okay. That only made Vi more skeptical. She knew Caitlyn wanted to try again, really try, and Vi wanted to believe her. She did believe her. But this? This didn’t sound like Caitlyn. Not the way Vi knew her, not the way she’d spent years adjusting to the quiet distance Caitlyn put between them when it came to anything that had anything to do with physical intimacy.

Because the truth was, Caitlyn had never been into sex. Not like Vi. Vi, who had to sleep facing away from her wife most nights because even after all these years, just looking at her was enough to make things difficult. Vi, who had memorized every curve, every scar, every shift in Caitlyn’s expression—but never really got to see her wanting.

Because sex wasn’t something Caitlyn wanted .

It was something she tolerated.

Vi swallowed, shifting in her seat.

The only times they’d ever done it were during Caitlyn’s heat cycles, and even then, it had never felt like something she wanted —just something her body needed. She never really got wet for Vi, not without lube, and even when she did, which was rare, it wasn’t like she felt anything. Or if she did, she sure as hell never showed it. No gasps, no shivers, no moans—just Caitlyn lying there, blank-faced, nightgown bunched up around her hips, legs parted just enough to let Vi do what she needed to do.

They didn’t even kiss.

Vi exhaled, pressing her fingers against her temple, pushing down the knot of frustration curling in her chest. It wasn’t anger, not really. Just… exhaustion. A deep, bone-weary kind of ache that she hadn’t realized was there until now.

She sighed. “Are you asking because you want to, or because I told you I was hard?”

Caitlyn hesitated, brow furrowing slightly, like she was actually giving it real thought. Then, finally:

“Because you said you were hard,” she admitted. “And I know I should… help.”

Vi blinked.

For a second, she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be irritated. But in the end, she couldn’t feel either.

Because it wasn’t the right reason, wasn’t even close, but at least Caitlyn was trying.

Vi smiled, but it was small, careful—more for Caitlyn’s sake than anything else. “You don’t have to force it,” she said, voice easy, even as something tight coiled in her chest. “I know you don’t enjoy it, and we’re just starting to figure things out again. We can take our time.”

Caitlyn tilted her head slightly, gaze sharp in that way that meant she wasn’t just going to let the conversation drop. “But what if you start looking for sex with someone else?”

Vi clenched her jaw, grinding her teeth before she forced herself to stop. Fuck.

“I already promised I wouldn’t stray again,” she said, keeping her voice steady, keeping herself from reacting the way she wanted to.

“I know,” Caitlyn said with a small shrug. “And I want to believe that. But you cheated once before because I wasn’t giving you what you needed sexually. I just… I don’t want it to happen again.”

Vi exhaled slowly, rubbing at her temple.

That wasn’t the only reason.

It wasn’t just about sex. It was about feeling wanted, feeling like she mattered to Caitlyn as more than just a partner on paper. It was about a hundred little things that built up over time, a slow, aching loneliness that she hadn’t even realized was suffocating her until she did something she could never take back.

But Caitlyn wasn’t wrong, either. Not from her perspective.

So instead of arguing, instead of making this another fight, Vi just nodded. “It’s not gonna happen again,” she said, simple, firm. “I promised you that.”

Caitlyn studied her for a moment, then narrowed her eyes slightly. “Then why don’t you want to have sex with me?”

Vi groaned and leaned back in her chair. “Because I know you don’t enjoy it.”

Silence.

Not the sharp, tense kind. Just a pause—thoughtful, considering, something neither of them really knew how to fill.

Then, finally, Caitlyn exhaled. “I can try,” she said, quiet but certain. “If you’re patient with me.” She hesitated, just for a second, then added, “We can take it slow. Step by step.”

Vi watched her carefully. “You really think that’ll change things?”

Caitlyn shifted, clearly uncomfortable but pushing through it. “I think I could learn to enjoy it.” A quick breath, then—“I mean, I told you, I did enjoy it the first time. Our honeymoon.”

That caught Vi off guard. Her head tilted slightly, brow furrowing as she asked, before she could think better of it, “What did you enjoy about it?”

Caitlyn blinked, like she hadn’t expected the question. Her lips parted, then pressed together again, like she was actually thinking about it. Then, finally, she met Vi’s gaze and said, “I’ll tell you tonight.”

And before Vi could even think of pressing, Caitlyn was already moving, already reaching for her bag. “I have to go. Thanks for breakfast. I’ll see you later.”

“Wait—”

“Bye.”

The call ended.

Vi just stared at her phone, still processing, still stuck on I did enjoy it the first time —and now she had to spend the whole day wondering what the hell Caitlyn enjoyed that night.

Vi was not having a good day. Not even close.

She was hard. Had been since this morning—the kind of hard that made every movement a goddamn nuisance, every shift in her chair, every step she took just more friction, more heat, more problem. And it wasn’t just a passing thing, something she could ignore and move on from. No, her body had latched onto it, dug in deep, and refused to let go.

And all because of one stupid, offhand comment from Caitlyn.

Vi clenched her jaw, adjusting in her seat, biting back the very real urge to excuse herself, find the nearest washroom, get herself off, and pray that it stayed soft for the rest of the day. But no. No, she had another meeting—another godforsaken hour of sitting here, trying to be professional, while her brain betrayed her at every turn.

Because of course, instead of focusing on work, she was stuck replaying their honeymoon.

Janna, that was ages ago. And sure, some details were fuzzy, but Vi remembered enough. Remembered trying to make it good for Caitlyn, because it was her first time, and Vi hadn’t wanted to be an ass about it. It wasn’t wild or dirty or rough—it was slow, careful, meant to make Caitlyn feel good. And she had. Vi remembered that much.

Caitlyn had spent the whole night biting back her sounds, pressing her face into the pillow to muffle her moans, her hands gripping the sheets, Vi’s arms, clawing at Vi’s shoulders when she finally came apart. Vi had spilled inside her more than once—oh, yeah, she definitely remembered that part.

Her lips twitched into a small, lazy smirk at the thought, before immediately shutting it down. Fuck. Nope. Stop thinking about it.

Because it wasn’t helping .

She still had meetings. She still had to sit through another hour of listening to people talk about efficiency metrics and weapon prototypes while fighting a goddamn boner .

And then—

“Vi.”

She blinked.

Ekko was staring at her, brows pulled together in something between concern and exasperation.

“The meeting’s starting,” he whispered, leaning closer. “You were daydreaming .”

Vi cleared her throat, straightening. “I was not .”

Ekko didn’t look convinced, but Vi ignored him, waving a hand at one of the managers. “Start the briefing. I want updates on the new prototype.”

And just like that, she forced herself to focus.

Or at least, she tried .

By the time Vi’s workday finally ended at five, she had exactly zero motivation to cook. Not after the absolute suffering that had been her entire day. So, on the way home, she made a quick stop at some restaurant, grabbed whatever looked good, and called it a win.

She got home around six. The townhouse was quiet—Caitlyn wasn’t back yet.

Vi sighed, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter and starting to unpack their dinner, but just as she was pulling out the containers, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen.

Caitlyn.

A small smile tugged at her lips. Three calls in one day. Three. That had to be a record. Before they decided to try again , they barely managed one phone call a month , and now—look at them. Practically chatty.

She answered. “Hey,”

“I’m stuck at the council building,” Caitlyn said immediately, voice tight with focus. “I have to finish vetting the new law, so I might be here for a few more hours.”

Vi rolled her shoulders back, leaning against the counter. “Okay… how many hours are we talking?”

There was a pause.

Then, Caitlyn, sounding distracted: “Maybe until… 8:30? I’m not sure.”

Vi glanced at the food she’d just unpacked. “You gonna eat there?”

“Not sure either,” Caitlyn admitted. “I’ll probably just grab something before heading home. I can’t leave right now—I’m deep in this.”

Vi hummed, dragging her fingers through her hair. “Alright.”

“Thanks,” Caitlyn said quickly, then hung up.

Vi exhaled, staring at her phone for a second before glancing back at the food.

Would Caitlyn be mad if she showed up at the council building with dinner?

…Well. If she was , Vi would just chalk it up to experience.

Vi started packing the food back up, tucking the containers neatly into the bag before pulling out her phone and dialing a number she rarely called.

“Yeah?” Sevika answered after the first ring, voice as gruff as ever.

“Come pick me up,” Vi said, slinging her jacket over one shoulder.

There was a beat of silence. Then, flatly: “You know I’m Caitlyn’s driver, right?”

Vi smirked. “Technically, you work for both of us.”

A deep sigh on the other end. “Be there in ten.”

By the time Vi slid into the car, Sevika was already gripping the wheel, looking half-annoyed, half-curious. They didn’t talk much—Sevika’s job was basically to be glued to Caitlyn’s side, and Vi had never really needed her for anything. But still. This was technically a work ride, right? Might as well make small talk.

“How you been?” Vi asked, stretching out her legs.

Sevika grunted. “Fine.”

Vi glanced at her. “You mated yet?”

That earned a chuckle. “Gave up on that a while ago,” Sevika said, shaking her head. “Just never found the right omega.”

Vi hummed, resting her arm against the window. “You will. Everyone’s got someone out there.”

Sevika huffed out a quiet laugh but didn’t argue.

They pulled up to the Council building soon enough, and as Vi stepped out of the car, she realized something.

She had never been to Caitlyn’s workplace before. Not once.

The thought sat weirdly in her chest as she made her way inside, navigating the hallways with nothing but a gut feeling and some light directions from the receptionist. When she finally reached Caitlyn’s office, she knocked softly.

No answer.

She knocked again. Then a third time, just to be sure.

There was some faint shuffling from inside, the sound of papers being moved, and then—finally—the door swung open.

Caitlyn stood there, blinking at her, surprise flickering across her face before her gaze dropped to the bag in Vi’s hand.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, voice laced with curiosity.

Vi shrugged. “I dunno. Just thought it’d be a good idea to bring you some food.”

Caitlyn stared for half a second longer, then smiled, something warm and unguarded flickering across her expression. “I’m starving,” she admitted. “But I couldn’t leave.”

Vi smirked. “Guess I deserve a kiss for that, huh?”

She meant it as a joke. Meant to follow it up with something snarky.

But before she could even take it back, Caitlyn leaned in and pressed the softest, lightest kiss to her lips.

Vi froze.

Oh.

Okay.

She smiled, thinking she could get used to this.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn watched as Vi unpacked the food, her movements easy, almost expectant , like she was picturing them actually sitting down and eating together. And maybe, if it were any other night, Caitlyn would’ve let that happen.

But she wasn’t done yet. Not even close.

She exhaled slowly, pressing her fingertips against the edge of her desk, debating whether to say it—whether to break whatever quiet hope Vi was holding onto. But there wasn’t really a choice, was there? Not if she wanted to stick to the estimate she’d given.

“I need to eat while I work,” Caitlyn said finally, reaching for one of the containers before Vi had even finished setting it down. She softened it with a quiet, “Thanks.”

Vi glanced up, caught somewhere between surprised and resigned, but didn’t argue. Just nodded once and grabbed her own food before dropping onto the couch across the room, stretching her legs out as she settled in.

The silence stretched between them.

Caitlyn took one last look before turning back to her documents—Vi, picking at her food, scrolling through her phone, a little too casual, like she was trying not to be bothered. And maybe she wasn’t . Maybe Caitlyn was overthinking it.

She set her meal down beside her laptop and got back to work.

She didn’t look up again. Didn’t check the time, didn’t check on Vi, just let herself sink into the words on the page, pushing forward until there was nothing left to push through.

By 8:15, it was done. The review was finished, recommendations printed, documents signed and sealed. A clean end to a long, exhausting day.

Caitlyn stood, stretching, a low, satisfied groan slipping out as she finally let the tension leave her shoulders. Only then did she look at Vi.

She was still on the couch, legs spread wide, head tilted back against the cushions, one arm hooked over the backrest, the other loosely holding her phone. Doomscrolling, probably.

Caitlyn lingered for a second, taking her in—the picture of someone who had definitely not spent the last two hours staring at legal text.

Vi hadn’t noticed Caitlyn watching her.

Good.

Caitlyn let her gaze wander, tracing over Vi’s frame, taking in details she had never bothered to really look at before. Not because she wasn’t aware—she was —but Vi had always just been there , always within reach, always half-dressed or stepping out of the shower or lying next to her in bed, all muscle and warmth and familiarity. She figured she’d had plenty of time to notice before.

Except it had been five years , and somehow, she never had.

Sure, she knew Vi was built—anyone with eyes could see that. She had seen the way Vi’s body moved over hers, the way steam clung to her skin when she walked out of the bathroom at night, hair damp, towel slung low on her hips. Caitlyn knew Vi was strong, but she had never studied her. Never taken stock of the details.

Until now.

Her gaze dragged over the way Vi’s biceps flexed under the snug sleeves of her shirt, the fabric pushed up to her elbows, exposing forearms marked with ink—dark lines etched into skin stretched over muscle, veins visible even in rest. Then lower, to Vi’s chest, defined but not overwhelming, the shape just enough to fit in Caitlyn’s palm if she ever had the urge to reach out.

Her stomach? Flat. Tight. A six-pack hidden beneath the cotton of her shirt, one Caitlyn knew was there.

And her thighs. Strong, thick but not too much, just enough that her pants pulled tight over them when she sat and loosened when she stood.

Objectively speaking, Vi was… attractive.

She always had been, in that effortlessly rugged way—the tattoos, the rough edges, the quiet confidence that made other women look . And they did look. Caitlyn had seen it before, knew exactly the type that was drawn to Vi’s bad-girl charm, the ones who leaned too close when they talked to her, who touched her arm unnecessarily, who smiled just a little too much.

It made her wonder.

How many women had tried to flirt with Vi over the years?

Actually—how many had succeeded ?

Because it wasn’t just about attraction. Vi had cheated once—that much Caitlyn knew . But was it really just that one time? Or was it simply the only time Vi had been caught ?

Her arms crossed before she realized she was doing it, a slow, creeping tension settling in her chest as she kept studying Vi, turning the question over and over in her head until—

“How many women have you slept with in the past five years?”

The words left her mouth before she even fully decided to say them.

Vi jolted so hard her phone slipped from her hand, dropping straight onto her face with a loud thunk.

“Shit—” Vi yelped, rubbing at her nose. “What?”

Caitlyn shrugged. “How many women have you slept within our marriage?”

Vi’s jaw tightened. “What is this about?” Her voice was already defensive, her body shifting like she was bracing for something worse. “I already told you—I had an affair. Why are we bringing this up again?”

Caitlyn tilted her head slightly, calm, measured. “I’m not talking about that affair,” she clarified. “I’m asking if there were others.”

Vi blinked. Then, too quickly—“There weren’t.”

Caitlyn nodded once. “Okay. Just curious.”

Vi exhaled sharply, brow furrowing, a frustrated crease forming between her eyes.

Caitlyn sighed, stacking some papers together. “I’m not judging, and I’m not trying to start a fight,” she said, voice even. “It was just a question. You don’t have to be annoyed. You can just… answer.”

Vi didn’t respond, just stood there, tension still radiating off her.

Caitlyn didn’t push. She started cleaning up her desk, shifting stray papers into neat stacks, adjusting her chair slightly. “I’m done with work,” she said, not looking up. “We can head home once I finish tidying up.”

Vi sighed, the sound low and tired. Then, in the middle of all the rustling paper—“I already told you I was sorry.”

Caitlyn paused, just for a second, then continued straightening things. “And I already told you—I don’t need an apology,” she said simply. “But I appreciate it.” She said as she put her pens away. “I don’t really care about the affair.”

That made Vi exhale louder, sharper. “Then why ask?”

Caitlyn finally stopped, looking Vi directly in the eyes, expression unreadable. “Because I wanted to.” A slight pause. “I was curious, that’s all.”

She finished tidying up, threw her bag over her shoulder, and walked toward Vi, who still looked… off. Tense, irritated, like she wasn’t sure if they were actually done with the conversation or if Caitlyn was just waiting to drop another loaded question.

Caitlyn sighed, reached out, and ran a hand over Vi’s bicep, fingers dragging lightly over the fabric of her sleeve, the kind of touch meant to pacify someone stubborn. “Stop being angry,” she murmured, voice almost teasing. “It was just a question.”

Vi rolled her eyes, but the tightness in her shoulders eased just a little.

Caitlyn smirked. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

Vi nodded, moving to hold the door open while Caitlyn switched off the lights. They were just about to step out when—

“Uhmm…”

Caitlyn arched a brow, waiting.

Vi cleared her throat. “Are we still—” A quick glance, like she was checking if this was a stupid thing to ask. “Are we still having sex when we get home?”

Caitlyn’s lips twitched. A tiny, almost-smile. “Ahhh.”

Vi’s defenses kicked back up immediately. “I’m just asking,” she added quickly. “I mean, you might be too tired, so—”

Caitlyn shook her head, amused. “I appreciate how considerate you are.” A small pause. “But it’s fine. We can still have sex before bed.”

Vi tried her best not to grin like she’d just won something.

Caitlyn saw it anyway.

She didn’t say anything.

They exited the Council building side by side, close enough that Vi felt Caitlyn’s warmth, though a tiny gap remained between them. Sevika waited by the curb, smoothly opening the car door, and as soon as they settled inside, Caitlyn leaned back, eyes fluttering shut, one hand resting lazily across her lap. Vi relaxed beside her, placing her hand on Caitlyn’s thigh, enjoying the comfortable silence that wrapped around them.

The quiet ride left Vi’s mind to wander—first drifting aimlessly, then stubbornly circling back to thoughts of Caitlyn beneath her tonight, and wondering what that would be like. Vi glanced discreetly sideways at Caitlyn, wondering if she’d want to try again for a baby soon. They hadn't had much luck in that department, but hope stirred stubbornly anyway, whispering that maybe this time would be different.

When they finally arrived home, Caitlyn murmured a soft thank-you and goodnight to Sevika before stepping gracefully out onto the driveway. Vi watched as Caitlyn moved toward their townhouse, eyes lingering on the smooth curve of her back, her confident stride. The moment they entered, Vi asked Caitlyn if she wanted wine, earning a thoughtful pause.

"I was thinking shower," Caitlyn said slowly, "but wine doesn’t sound bad either."

Vi lifted an eyebrow, lips quirking playfully. "Well, which is it? Shower or wine?"

Caitlyn flashed a faint smile. "Wine."

Caitlyn set her bag down near the staircase, hanging her coat casually on the railing. She kicked off her heels with a sigh of relief and padded barefoot toward the living room, Vi’s eyes tracking her every move.

Vi moved to the kitchen, retrieving a bottle of red and two glasses, then followed Caitlyn. She found her stretched elegantly across the long couch, legs crossed, head tilted back, exposing the graceful line of her throat. And there it was—Vi’s mind immediately replaying the image from the morning's video call. Caitlyn’s blouse opened teasingly, the tempting curve of her breasts framed by the black push-up bra.

Heat pooled instantly, Vi’s body reacting predictably, leaving her frustratingly hard again.

Great.

Vi cleared her throat softly as she poured Caitlyn’s wine, then her own, settling onto the couch beside her wife. After taking a sip, Vi hesitated, then quietly asked if Caitlyn ever wondered why they'd never gotten pregnant, despite timing things around Caitlyn’s heat.

Caitlyn shrugged lightly. “Maybe it’s because you haven’t claimed me yet.”

Vi kept her voice gentle, though her heart skipped. “That was because you didn’t want to.”

Caitlyn nodded, accepting this. “You’re right. But maybe it’s also because you've never knotted me.”

Vi carefully schooled her features, fighting down the flush that threatened her cheeks. Caitlyn’s bluntness shouldn’t still surprise her—her wife had always been unfiltered, never shying away from uncomfortable truths. But there was a painful honesty to it: Vi hadn’t ever knotted Caitlyn, not once. Probably because she’d never been aroused enough for a knot to form.

Caitlyn tilted her head curiously. “Do you want to knot me later when we have sex?”

Vi silently thanked every god that existed that she wasn’t sipping wine at that exact moment; she surely would've choked. Instead, she kept her composure and nodded calmly, murmuring, “Sure, we can try.”

Then she paused thoughtfully. “Wait, aren’t you on contraceptives?”

Caitlyn gave Vi a puzzled look. “I've never been on contraceptives. We were trying for a baby before.”

“Yes, but we haven’t tried in over a year,” Vi reminded her gently.

“That’s because you didn’t want to,” Caitlyn stated simply, matter-of-factly. “Probably because you were busy having sex with your mistress since I wasn’t fulfilling your sexual needs.”

Vi stared, mouth open, speechless at Caitlyn’s blunt honesty. After a tense silence, Vi finally managed, “Why do you have to say it like that?”

Caitlyn’s expression didn’t change. “Like what? Like the truth?”

Vi groaned softly, leaning her head back against the couch, desperately trying to calm the guilt twisting painfully in her chest. She knew she'd been wrong, knew cheating had been a huge mistake, but hearing Caitlyn acknowledge it aloud felt like fresh punishment every time. Perhaps her actions truly were unforgivable.

Caitlyn spoke quietly again, breaking through Vi’s thoughts. “Was Sarah good in bed? Did you enjoy sleeping with her?”

Vi’s head snapped up sharply, about to become defensive, but then reconsidered. Caitlyn might genuinely just be curious, like earlier in her office. She took a deep breath, forcing honesty past her tense lips. “Yes, I did enjoy it, but—”

Caitlyn cut her off, voice steady and even. “Did you spill your seed inside her?”

Vi blinked, caught entirely off-guard. “What?”

Caitlyn repeated herself calmly. “Did you have unprotected sex with your mistress?”

Vi’s jaw tightened, teeth grinding together briefly before she managed another strained “Yes.”

Caitlyn nodded thoughtfully. Vi opened her mouth again, about to offer something—an apology, reassurance, anything—when Caitlyn spoke again, beating her to it, voice frighteningly soft.

“If your mistress had gotten pregnant with your pup, would you have minded?”

Vi’s mind froze for a moment, though she already knew the answer. She and Sarah had discussed it—agreed that if Sarah got pregnant, they’d both be fine with it. With quiet honesty, Vi softly admitted, “No, I wouldn’t have minded if Sarah got pregnant with my pup.”

Caitlyn didn’t even look at her, only nodded slightly in acknowledgment, slowly sipping her wine. Silence fell heavily between them, lingering until Vi finally couldn't take it anymore.

“Do you want to try for a baby again?” Vi asked gently, breaking the silence. “I mean, since we’re giving our marriage another shot, and we’ve already agreed to have sex more often… maybe we’ll get lucky this time.”

Caitlyn nodded thoughtfully. “We could try knotting first when I'm ovulating and if we still don’t get pregnant, maybe you could claim me. Might improve our chances.”

Vi paused, suddenly uncertain. “Do you even want a baby, Cait?”

Caitlyn smiled faintly, shrugging as she took another casual sip of wine. “I’m fine either way. If we have a baby, okay. If we don’t, I’m good with that too.”

Vi shook her head with a frustrated groan, leaning back against the couch and staring at the ceiling. “You make it sound like having a baby is about as important to you as getting a pet rock.”

Caitlyn sighed, calmly pouring herself another glass of wine. She took a slow sip, exhaled again, and then softly leaned her head onto Vi’s shoulder. “Didn’t we already agree to take things slow? I still need to process everything, Vi. A baby…” Caitlyn hesitated, carefully choosing her next words as she lifted her head, meeting Vi’s eyes. “Right now, having a pup feels neutral to me. It doesn’t seem like some huge, life-changing event. Not at this moment. But who knows? A year from now, I might feel differently.”

Vi nodded, accepting the honesty. She exhaled softly, pushing herself upright from the couch. “Can I kiss you now?”

Caitlyn’s lips twitched into a faint smile, and she nodded again.

Vi leaned forward, pressing her lips gently to Caitlyn’s, soft at first, tender—then deepening slowly as her tongue slipped into Caitlyn’s mouth. Caitlyn parted her lips willingly, granting Vi full access, their kiss quickly becoming heated. Vi’s hand drifted to Caitlyn’s breast, softly squeezing through her blouse. Caitlyn let out a quiet moan before suddenly pushing Vi away, eyebrow raised playfully.

“You said kiss,” Caitlyn teased, voice breathless, “not grope.”

Vi stumbled over her words, feeling her cheeks heat. "It's called foreplay, Cait."

Caitlyn tilted her head slightly, her voice neutral, “Oh, are we having sex right now?”

Vi blinked, startled by Caitlyn’s bluntness, and tried to shake off her surprise. “Well, yeah—supposedly that was the plan.”

Caitlyn glanced skeptically around the room, lips pressed into a thin line. "Here? Right now, on this couch?"

Vi groaned softly in frustration. "What’s wrong with the couch? It’s our house, Cait."

Caitlyn nodded patiently, as if explaining something obvious. “It’s also the couch our guests sit on. If we have sex here, we might make a mess—and getting it cleaned would be annoying.”

Vi dropped her head back dramatically, eyes shut tight. "Janna, Cait. Do you even want to have sex?"

Caitlyn rolled her eyes but softened her tone. "I do. Just not here."

Vi threw up her hands in exaggerated defeat. "Fine. Upstairs it is."

"Thank you," Caitlyn replied, already on her feet, but paused when she heard Vi groan again. Turning slowly, she watched Vi press both palms hard against her eyes in frustration.

“What is it now?” Caitlyn asked, more curious than annoyed.

Vi sighed, dropping her hands heavily. "The whole couch argument kind of killed the mood."

Caitlyn raised one eyebrow skeptically, then without warning, pressed her palm firmly against Vi’s crotch. Vi sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening at Caitlyn’s unexpected boldness. Despite everything, Vi was still clearly hard, body betraying her words. When Caitlyn squeezed gently, Vi’s breath hitched, escaping as a quiet, embarrassingly needy sound.

Caitlyn’s eyebrows rose slowly, her voice calm and amused, though her thumb traced an almost tender circle. “Your libido seems fine to me. Still hard.”

Vi’s cheeks burned hotter, and she let out a defeated groan. “Thanks for pointing that out.”

Caitlyn smirked, turning away confidently. “You’re welcome. Now hurry up and come upstairs already.”

Vi’s lips curled into a playful smile, murmuring softly under her breath, “Oh, I’m definitely coming.”

Chapter Text

Vi stepped into the bedroom and stopped short.

Caitlyn was already undressing, not in a sultry, watch me kind of way, just… changing, the same way she did every night. Blouse off, pencil skirt unzipped, stockings peeled away with smooth, practiced movements. Nothing special. Nothing meant to be a show.

But Vi just… stood there. Watching like some idiot who had never seen a woman take off her clothes before.

Which was ridiculous. This was Caitlyn. Her wife.

Caitlyn, now down to her underwear, grabbed a fresh set of clothes and turned toward the bathroom. Vi finally shook herself out of it.

“Where are you going?”

Caitlyn shot her a look. “I was at work all day. I’m not having sex with you without washing first.”

Vi groaned, flopping onto the bed. “So many delays.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Vi sprawled on the mattress, staring at the ceiling.

She had a point, though. Vi probably needed to shower too. Begrudgingly, she dragged herself up when Caitlyn was done, going through the motions, trying to be fast about it, but somehow, it still felt like the longest routine of her life.

And finally, finally...

They were in bed.

And everything was… weird.

Like, stiffer than a first date weird. Actually, no. Worse. Their actual first time had been better than this.

Vi lay flat on her back, staring at the ceiling, fully aware of Caitlyn beside her, fully aware that neither of them were moving. Caitlyn, as expected, wasn’t making the first move, and Vi was suddenly overthinking everything.

Maybe this wasn’t happening tonight.

Then Caitlyn shifted, rolling onto her side to face her. “What’s wrong?”

Vi turned, mirroring her. “Nothing.”

Silence again. But then, she reached out, resting her hand lightly on Caitlyn’s waist, fingers brushing against the soft fabric of her nightgown. “You never answered me earlier,” she said, smirking a little. “What did you like about our first time?”

Caitlyn let out a short laugh. “I thought you’d have forgotten about that by now.”

Vi huffed. “How could I forget?”

Caitlyn studied her for a second. Then, totally unexpected, she lifted a hand and ran her fingers through Vi’s hair, slow, absentminded, like she wasn’t even thinking about it. Like it was just natural.

Vi’s stomach flipped.

“I liked the foreplay,” Caitlyn murmured.

Vi swallowed. “Yeah? Which part?”

Caitlyn hesitated. Then, finally, “I liked it when you played with my boobs.”

Vi’s brain stalled for half a second. Then—“Played ?” She smirked, but it felt tight. “You mean when I was groping and sucking your nipples?”

A faint blush crept over Caitlyn’s face, but she still nodded. “Yes. That.”

Vi barely had time to process before her body reacted. Heat, tension, awareness, like a switch flipping.

Her hand, still resting on Caitlyn’s waist, slid lower, fingertips brushing the hem of her nightgown. She hesitated, waiting, Caitlyn didn’t stop her.

Slowly, Vi pushed under the fabric, palm pressing against warm, bare skin, moving higher, fingers brushing the swell of Caitlyn’s breast before she cupped it fully, thumb stroking over the peak, teasing.

Caitlyn’s breath caught.

Their eyes never left each other’s.

Vi rolled Caitlyn’s nipple between her fingers, tugging, teasing, feeling it stiffen under her touch.

Caitlyn’s breath hitched, hands pausing in Vi’s hair for half a second before resuming, fingers threading through the strands, gripping just a little tighter.

Vi took that as encouragement.

Slowly, she pushed up Caitlyn’s nightgown, pressing her lips to warm skin, trailing lower until her mouth closed over Caitlyn’s nipple. She started slow—sucking gently, testing—then harder, pulling a little, tongue flicking over the peak.

Caitlyn’s grip tightened.

But no sound.

The only way Vi knew she was enjoying it was the way her breathing changed—shallow, a little uneven.

Then, suddenly, Caitlyn moved, fingers twisting in Vi’s hair—not pushing her away, just redirecting. She shifted onto her back, pulling Vi’s head toward her other breast, silent but clear in what she wanted.

And then Vi smelled it.

Caitlyn’s scent.

Warm, heady, wrapping around her, sinking into her skin, pulling her under.

It hit her all at once—the instinct, the primal part of her that had been quiet for years suddenly awake, suddenly clawing to the surface, screaming at her to claim her wife, to mark her, to finally mate her the way she was supposed to.

Vi groaned softly, sucking harder, teeth scraping just enough to make Caitlyn’s grip on her hair tighten. She  glanced up just in time to see Caitlyn biting down on her lower lip, hard, like she was trying to hold something back.

Vi didn’t think—just moved, pressing her lips to Caitlyn’s, catching that lip between her own, sucking gently, easing the tension out of it before letting go.

“Don’t do that,” Vi murmured. “You’ll make yourself bleed.”

Caitlyn exhaled, eyes flickering open.

Vi searched her face for a second, then smirked. “You can moan, you know. It’s not a crime.”

Caitlyn sighed, voice low, almost embarrassed. “I’m just… not used to it. It makes me uncomfortable when I think about it.”

Vi huffed a quiet laugh. “That’s your problem,” she said, pressing a soft kiss to Caitlyn’s jaw. “You think too much.” Another kiss, lower this time. “You’re not supposed to be thinking.”

Caitlyn didn’t respond, but Vi could feel the slight shift in her breathing, the way her chest rose just a little deeper, like her body wanted to follow but her mind kept pulling her back.

Vi brushed her nose against Caitlyn’s skin, then buried her face in the curve of her neck, breathing her in.

Fuck. Her scent.

Something about it made Vi’s head swim, made heat curl low in her stomach, like every part of her recognized Caitlyn, knew she was supposed to be hers. Her mate.

Except she wasn’t.

Because Vi’s body could want Caitlyn all it wanted, could ache for her in ways she didn’t even know how to put into words, but none of it mattered if Caitlyn wasn’t willing to meet her halfway. If she wasn’t ready.

The thought made Vi groan against Caitlyn’s skin, frustration curling tight in her gut.

Muffled against her neck, she muttered, “Why are you so against being claimed?”

Caitlyn sighed, fingers still threading through Vi’s hair, slow, almost absentminded. “Because when and how I’m claimed,” she murmured, “is the only thing I had a say in.”

Vi’s eyes flicked open. She lifted her head from Caitlyn’s neck, brow furrowing. “What?” Like she hadn’t heard right. Like Caitlyn had just spoken in riddles.

Caitlyn met her gaze, steady. “There’s a clause in our marriage agreement,” she said evenly. “You can’t force a claiming bite. You can’t force a bond.”

Vi groaned, dropping her forehead against Caitlyn’s shoulder for half a second before looking back up. “Yeah. I know that.” Her voice came out more frustrated than she meant. “That’s probably the one part of that stupid contract I actually know by heart. If I violate it, our marriage gets voided.”

Caitlyn nodded. “I had that added in.”

Vi exhaled. “Yeah, I know that too.” She tilted her head, searching Caitlyn’s face. “But why? And what do you mean that was the only part you had a say in?”

Caitlyn’s fingers stilled in Vi’s hair. For a second, she looked like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to keep talking. But then, slowly, she did.

“This marriage wasn’t our choice,” she said, voice quieter now. “Our parents chose it for us. They drafted the agreement. They set the terms. It was never about us. It was about them.”

Vi stayed quiet, watching her.

Caitlyn inhaled, steady but slow. “The day our marriage was decided, I lost my autonomy. I lost my agency. I didn’t choose to marry you. The choice was made for me. And I couldn’t change it. No matter how much I fought, no matter how much I protested, it was going to happen.”

She let the words settle, watching Vi absorb them.

“So deciding when and how I was claimed… that was the only decision I had left. The only thing that was mine.” A pause, then softer, like she was making sure Vi really heard her this time. “It’s not that I’m against it. I just need it to be my choice.”

Vi hummed, then let out a slow sigh, pressing her face back into the warmth of Caitlyn’s neck. She inhaled, letting Caitlyn’s scent settle deep in her chest before murmuring, “What do I have to do for you to want to be claimed already?”

Caitlyn chuckled, low and soft. “I already told you,” she said. “If we don’t get pregnant after knotting, then you can claim me.”

Vi groaned, dropping her forehead against Caitlyn’s shoulder. “You don’t even want a baby.”

Caitlyn shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.” A beat. “I might not want a pup now, but you do. And our parents want a grandchild.”

Vi groaned again, the sound vibrating against Caitlyn’s skin, making her smile just a little.

Then, quieter this time, Vi mumbled into her neck, “You should be the one to decide when we have a baby. That way, it’s still your choice. You still have control over something in this marriage.”

A pause. Then, softer, like a promise—

“I’d never take that away from you.”

Caitlyn blinked, thrown off by Vi’s words.

For the longest time, since the day they were married, that had been their goal—have a baby, produce an heir, fulfill the duty their families expected of them. And now Vi was saying she could decide when that happened?

Vi was still pressed into the crook of her neck, warm and solid against her, when Caitlyn finally spoke. “Are you sure?” she asked, voice quiet. “I thought you wanted a pup already. Wasn’t that why you—” she hesitated, then finished, “—were with someone else? Because you wanted a baby?”

Vi lifted herself up so fast it startled Caitlyn, her brows knitting together in frustration. “No. ” Her voice was sharp, insistent. “That’s not why. When did I ever say that?”

Caitlyn met her gaze, unblinking. “Earlier,” she said simply. “You told me you wouldn’t have minded having a pup with your mistress.”

Vi exhaled hard, dragging a hand down her face. “I meant that if it happened, I would’ve taken responsibility. We weren’t trying to have a baby. We weren’t planning for one. But if it happened, I wasn’t gonna be an ass and leave her to deal with it alone.”

Caitlyn held her stare for a second, then nodded.

Her hand lifted, fingers tracing gently over Vi’s cheek before settling there, rubbing soft, absent circles against her skin. “You don’t have to get frustrated or angry,” she murmured. “It was just a question. Not everything we talk about has to turn into a fight.”

Vi exhaled again, slower this time, then let her weight drop back down, pressing herself against Caitlyn, burying her face in her neck once more.

“I’m not angry,” Vi muttered, voice muffled against her skin. “I was just explaining something… passionately.”

Caitlyn hummed, amused, one hand slipping back into Vi’s hair, the other resting on her back, rubbing slow, steady lines—like calming a restless child.

Caitlyn felt Vi’s lips press against her neck—open, lingering. Then a nip. A small bite. And then, warmth—Vi’s mouth closing over her skin, sucking lightly.

Her body tensed. Her teeth sank into her lip again, but this time, it wasn’t just about holding back a sound.

She was thinking.

Sex with Vi was… fine. It made sense. They were married, after all—wasn’t this just part of it? But even as her body responded, her mind resisted, whispering the same truth she’d told herself since the beginning.

Vi was her wife on paper.

Sex was a duty.

Not something to be enjoyed —not with a woman she had no real feelings for.

Then Vi’s hand slid over her breast again, fingers brushing her nipple, teasing, playing. The sensation shot through her like a live wire, and she sucked in a sharp breath before she could stop it.

She hated how easy it was for her body to betray her.

Their first night had been… good . Too good . She remembered that much. Vi had made her feel things she wasn’t supposed to, pulled reactions from her that she hadn’t meant to give. Maybe it was because they’d been a little drunk, maybe it was just because it was new, but Caitlyn had enjoyed it.

And then, immediately, she had regretted it.

She had told herself afterward that it shouldn’t have been like that. That it wasn’t supposed to feel that good. Sex with Vi wasn’t meant to last that long, wasn’t meant to be something she wanted. It had a purpose. A function.

Vi was supposed to spill inside her.

They were supposed to get pregnant.

That was the objective.

So every time after that, Caitlyn had made sure to stick to the plan. Just enough contact to get Vi there. Just enough movement to make it work . But never enough to risk enjoying it again.

Never enough to let herself forget that, at the end of the day, Vi was still a stranger.

Then Vi’s voice cut through the noise in her head.

“Stop thinking.”

Caitlyn almost sighed.

She had to remember —they were trying now. She had promised to try. The cold, transactional sex was supposed to be over. She had told Vi she’d learn to enjoy it.

She should enjoy it.

Vi’s kisses trailed lower, her hands pushing Caitlyn’s nightgown up and over her head, stripping it away without hesitation. But she didn’t stop to look, didn’t linger—just moved, her mouth closing over one breast the second the fabric was gone, her hand squeezing the other.

The warmth of it made Caitlyn’s breath catch.

It felt… good.

She curled her fingers into Vi’s hair, not pushing, not pulling—just holding on, grounding herself.

After their first time together, they had stopped doing this —the lead-up, the slow burn. She had made it easy, predictable. Vi would get hard, Vi would be inside her, Vi would finish. That was the fastest way to achieve their goal—get pregnant without wasting too much time.

But now… Vi was taking her time.

Her mouth left Caitlyn’s nipple, trailing kisses down her stomach, slow but steady. Then Caitlyn felt Vi’s fingers hook into her panties, sliding them down, and a moment later, Vi’s fingers parted her folds and pressed against her.

A pause. Then—

“You’re still dry,” Vi observed.

Caitlyn let out a slow breath. “My apologies,” she said, voice flat, factual. “That part of me doesn’t get wet on command.”

Vi chuckled, the sound low, amused.

Caitlyn braced herself for a snarky reply. But instead—

A warm mouth.

A flick of a tongue.

She jerked, half sitting up in shock. “Violet—”

She barely got the word out before Vi’s lips sealed around her clit, sucking, tongue working around it, and fuck. Caitlyn’s hands flew to Vi’s hair again, gripping tight as her body dropped back onto the bed, her breath leaving her in a shaky exhale.

Then—her nose twitched.

Pheromones.

Janna. Vi was going all out, wasn’t she?

She was really trying —trying to pull Caitlyn in, trying to break past every wall she had built up over the years. And between the pheromones wrapping around her like a haze and Vi’s mouth pulling her body under, Caitlyn felt it happening.

She was getting wet.

And from where Vi was right now, she was sure Vi already knew it too.

Caitlyn’s scent was getting stronger, and Vi’s control was hanging by a thread .

Her tongue dragged up, then down, slow but firm, tasting every part of Caitlyn’s sweet folds. She could feel how Caitlyn’s body was responding, how she was getting wetter, how her thighs trembled just slightly—but she was still quiet.

And Vi needed to hear her.

She pulled away, moving up, hovering over her wife’s body, eyes immediately locking onto Caitlyn’s mouth. Biting her lip again.

Vi was hard. So fucking hard. But she was frustrated too.

She wanted to be inside her. Needed to be inside her. But at the same time, she wanted to know Caitlyn was enjoying this, that this wasn’t just another mechanical, silent attempt at fixing their marriage.

“This,” Vi muttered, brushing her thumb over Caitlyn’s lower lip, “has to stop.”

Then she kissed her.

Not soft. Not gentle. No teasing little presses of lips—Vi kissed Caitlyn like she meant it, like she wanted to pull every sound from her, open-mouthed, tongue pushing deep, tasting her.

And as their mouths moved, Vi slid her hand lower, fingers slipping inside her wife in one smooth, slow motion.

Caitlyn made a sound then—a strangled, caught-off-guard groan that finally told Vi she was feeling this.

Vi swallowed the sound, pushing deeper, testing, teasing, her fingers stretching Caitlyn open, getting her ready, but fuck— fuck —she was warm, wet, tight.

Vi groaned into her mouth, feeling her walls squeeze around her fingers, her breathing going ragged as she worked her hand, searching.

Then—there.

That one spot, that little spongy place inside, the one that would make Caitlyn’s whole body react.

Vi curled her fingers, pressing against it.

Caitlyn whimpered softly.

Vi pressed again.

Caitlyn’s hands flew to Vi’s face, gripping tight.

And then—finally, fucking finally —she moaned. Not held back, not muffled. Just fast, short moans, right into Vi’s mouth, her sounds falling into rhythm with every thrust of Vi’s fingers.

Vi kept moving, slow and steady, her body pressed against Caitlyn’s, feeling every shift, every tremble, every uneven breath. Caitlyn’s moans were getting softer, higher, the kind of sounds Vi had craved to hear from her, the kind she had been waiting for. And then—suddenly—Caitlyn pulled away.

Vi froze. “What’s wrong?”

Caitlyn bit down on her lip again, hard enough that Vi felt it in her own chest.

Vi groaned. “Stop that.” Her thumb brushed against Caitlyn’s swollen lip, coaxing it free before she could hurt herself. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

Caitlyn exhaled, voice barely above a whisper. “I was getting close.”

Vi blinked. Then groaned, tipping her head back in pure exasperation. “Cait, you should’ve just said that.”

Caitlyn huffed. “I was about to. That’s why I pulled away.” A pause. Then, quieter, like she was barely holding back a laugh—“But you stopped.”

Vi didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or be infuriated. Instead, she moved.

She peeled off her shirt, tossing it aside, then hooked her thumbs into her pajama bottoms and shoved them down, kicking them off while Caitlyn watched.

No words. Just watching.

Vi climbed back over her, gripping Caitlyn’s legs and guiding them around her waist, pulling her in close, settling between her thighs. Then she reached down, wrapping a hand around herself, lining up with Caitlyn’s entrance.

Caitlyn’s fingers tightened around Vi’s arm—the one bracing against the mattress. Vi glanced up, catching her expression for half a second before pushing forward, sinking into her heat.

She watched Caitlyn’s lips part, the slow “O” shape her mouth made as Vi filled her, stretching her, watched that shape get wider the deeper she went.

And then, when Vi was buried deep inside her—finally, completely—Caitlyn’s eyes squeezed shut, and—

Her teeth caught her lip.

Again.

Vi groaned, rolling her hips, starting slow, setting a rhythm, pressing her body flush against Caitlyn’s, burying her face in her wife’s neck, moaning every time Caitlyn clenched around her.

Then she picked up the pace. Faster, deeper, hitting that one spot over and over, feeling Caitlyn tighten, feeling her body respond even if she wouldn’t let herself make a sound .

Vi needed to hear her.

“Moan for me,” Vi whispered, breath shaky, voice pleading. “Please, Cait. I wanna hear you.”

No response.

She pushed herself up, just enough to look at Caitlyn's face, to take in the flush spreading across her wife's cheeks, the way her brows pinched slightly. She was biting down hard, lips pressed together like she was physically holding back every noise trying to escape. Eyes shut tight, breathing ragged, torn apart , but still silent, still resisting.

And fuck , that did something to Vi.

Seeing her like this—seeing all of it, the struggle, the tension, the need—made Vi even harder, made her want to bury herself deeper , make Caitlyn feel every inch, break past every ounce of control she was trying so damn hard to hold on to.

“Don’t hold back,” she whispered against Caitlyn’s lips, her movements picking up in rhythm, coaxing, pulling , as her body pressed even closer. “I want to hear you.”

A sharp inhale. A trembling exhale.

And then, finally—finally—a sound.

Soft. Breathless. Real.

Vi groaned, chasing it, drinking it in, determined to pull more from her.

And judging by the way Caitlyn’s grip tightened, nails pressing into Vi’s skin, she was so damn close to giving her exactly what she wanted.

Caitlyn felt it—Vi’s knot, thick and insistent, pressing against her with every frantic movement, stretching her, testing the limits of how much more she could take. It wasn’t inside her yet, just there , hitting against her entrance, teasing, sending sharp waves of pleasure through her every time Vi drove forward.

Vi’s pace had turned wild, her body moving with raw, desperate energy, her thrusts deep and urgent. Each one knocked the breath from Caitlyn’s lungs, leaving her gasping, her chest rising and falling in time with the dizzying rhythm Vi was forcing between them.

“Stop holding back, Cait,” Vi panted, her voice rough, pleading. “Let me hear you—please.”

Then it hit her.

The rush—blinding, overwhelming. Caitlyn’s body clenched, locking down tight as pleasure ripped through her, tearing her apart from the inside out. Her head tilted back against the pillows, eyes squeezing shut, lips parting on a sharp inhale followed by—

A moan. Loud. Unrestrained. Raw.

“Violet…”

She barely heard herself say it, but Vi did.

Vi groaned, shuddering hard against her.

Caitlyn’s nails sank deep into Vi’s arms, her legs trembling, tightening around Vi’s waist, holding her in place even as the waves crashed over her. Her body didn’t stop shaking, didn’t stop pulsing around Vi’s length, and she barely had time to catch her breath before she felt it.

The knot.

It was pushing against her entrance, unyielding, stretching her further, forcing her open. Her eyes snapped open, locking onto Vi’s face—flushed, focused, jaw clenched so tightly it looked like she might break.

Caitlyn didn’t know if she could take it. She was already so full, and Vi was still pushing, still trying to get deeper, still needing to be as close as possible. The stretch burned, too much and not enough all at once, and it sent a sharp whimper from Caitlyn’s throat.

Heat flooded through her as Vi pushed past the last resistance, locking them together completely.

Caitlyn moaned, sharp and breathless, a mix of relief and shock, her back arching off the bed as the sensation hit her all at once—tight, deep, overwhelming.

And then Vi started coming inside her.

Her entire body tensed above Caitlyn’s, and then a strangled, wrecked moan spilled from her mouth, her face pressing into Caitlyn’s neck, breathing hard, her chest heaving against Caitlyn’s own. Caitlyn felt her shaking, felt the tension rolling through her as she came apart, gasping against Caitlyn’s sweat-damp skin, her grip bruising as she held Caitlyn so impossibly close .

They were both trembling, chests rising and falling in sync, bodies tangled together, heat still pulsing between them.

Caitlyn swallowed hard, her fingers threading into Vi’s damp hair, pushing it back from her face, her own breath still uneven, still trying to recover. She licked her lips, swallowing past the dryness in her throat, trying to pull herself back to reality, but then—

Vi shifted, her lips brushing against Caitlyn’s ear, her voice rough, spent, exhausted.

“You were so good,” Vi murmured. “Took me so well.”

Caitlyn felt her face burn.

A quiet, completely unwanted rush of warmth spread through her chest—like Vi’s words were something she should be happy about.

And for some reason…

She was .

Caitlyn exhaled, eyes slipping shut as her fingers kept moving through Vi’s hair, slow and absentminded.

Vi wasn’t going anywhere—not with her knot still locked inside her, her weight solid and there , pressing into Caitlyn, keeping her warm.

Then Vi shifted, bracing her arms on either side of Caitlyn’s head, lifting herself just enough to meet her eyes. “You okay?”

Caitlyn cracked a tired smile. “Aside from the throbbing between my legs?” She huffed out a quiet laugh. “I’m fine.”

Vi’s expression softened—something almost apologetic flickering in her eyes. “Did it hurt?”

Caitlyn felt warmth creep up her neck. “A bit.” Then, quieter, a little hesitant—“I just… I wasn’t sure if I could have taken you deeper. You were already…” Her voice trailed off, her face burning hotter.

Vi chuckled, low and amused, pressing a slow kiss against her cheek. “Baby,” she murmured, “you know that part adjusts, right?”

Caitlyn froze.

Not at the words. At the way Vi said them.

Baby.

Vi had never called her that before. Had never called her anything but her name, spoken in different variations, different tones, but always just Caitlyn.

Her first instinct was to point it out. But she didn’t.

Instead, she arched a single brow. “I do know that. The vaginal canal is highly elastic, but it primarily stretches horizontally to accommodate girth, like during intercourse or childbirth.” She paused, voice perfectly even. “While it can expand in length, it does so to a lesser degree.”

Vi blinked.

Then full-on laughed, “Why the hell do you know that like you studied it?”

Caitlyn flushed slightly, turning her head away. “Because I did.”

Vi pulled back just enough to look at her, curiosity dancing behind her eyes. “Why?”

Caitlyn sighed softly. “Because I did my research before we got married.” A pause. “I had to know what to expect when we had sex.”

Vi just stared at her.

Then she grinned.

And Caitlyn had no idea why that made her heart do something weird .

Caitlyn exhaled, shifting slightly beneath Vi before murmuring, “How long are we going to be like this?”

Vi smirked against her skin. “Didn’t research that?”

Caitlyn huffed, feeling teased , but still answered, matter-of-fact as ever. “Of course I did.” A pause. “Knots typically last anywhere from fifteen minutes to an hour after penetration, but the duration varies depending on the alpha.”

Vi chuckled, clearly thoroughly amused, and pressed another lazy kiss against Caitlyn’s cheek before tilting her face up, capturing her lips in something much softer than before—gentle now, unhurried, almost sweet.

When she pulled back, Vi murmured, “Well… no idea how long mine lasts.” She grinned. “You’re the first I’ve ever knotted, so… guess we’re finding out together.”

Caitlyn just nodded, suddenly too tired to keep up the conversation. The exhaustion was settling deep—work had drained her, and now this had left her limbs feeling warm and heavy, her body pulling her toward sleep.

Her eyes started to drift closed.

And just before she slipped under, she heard Vi’s voice, low and drowsy, brushing against her skin.

“Feels good being stuck inside you like this.” A quiet chuckle. “Should’ve done it sooner.”

Caitlyn barely had the energy to roll her eyes before sleep finally took her.

Chapter Text

Vi had never woken up late in her life.

Not as a kid, even after sneaking out of bed to watch TV way past bedtime. Not in high school, when she stayed up all night gaming with her friends until the sun bled through the blinds. Not even in college, after drowning in shots and bad decisions at some overcrowded party.

But today?

Today was the first time in her entire life that she’d slept in.

Now she was waking up to the sharp, incessant ringing of a phone, groaning as she blindly reached for it, answering without looking. “Who is this?” Her voice was rough, thick with sleep.

Silence.

Then—

"Why the fuck are you answering Caitlyn’s phone?" Powder’s voice cut through, sharp and incredulous. "Where’s Caitlyn?"

Vi winced, cracking one eye open, blinking against the light filtering into the room. She barely processed the question before glancing to her side.

Caitlyn was still asleep beside her, blanket tangled around her waist, her bare back exposed, the slow rise and fall of her breath unbothered by the conversation happening right next to her.

Vi scrubbed a hand down her face. “She’s sleeping.”

A scoff. "Sleeping? At ten in the morning?"

Vi frowned, twisting to look at the clock on the wall. 10:15 AM. Shit.

She sighed. “Yeah, Powder. She’s still sleeping. What do you want?”

A pause. Then, stiffly—

“I’m at the front door.”

Vi frowned. “Of—?”

“Your house.”

That woke Vi up real quick.

She sat up fully now, rubbing a hand over her face. “Why?”

“You do realize Caitlyn isn’t at work today, right?” Powder said, voice dripping with suspicion. “She didn’t show up, didn’t call in, and I got worried that maybe—I don’t know—you murdered her?”

Vi rolled her eyes. “Ha ha,” she deadpanned. “Why would I do that?”

Powder scoffed. “I mean, you did manage to cheat on her, so murder’s not that far off.”

Vi groaned, flopping back onto the bed for a second before dragging herself up again.

Powder sighed dramatically. “So, uh, are you gonna open the door or am I gonna have to break in?”

Vi groaned again, rubbing a hand over her face. “Just wait,” she muttered into the phone. “I’m coming.”

She hung up before Powder could say anything else, already regretting answering in the first place.

With a sigh, she pushed herself up, finally realizing—shit—it was past ten, and not only was she not at work, but neither was Caitlyn.

She grabbed her shirt from the floor, pulling it over her head as she turned—just in time to see Caitlyn stir, her brows furrowing slightly before her eyes fluttered open.

Caitlyn blinked at her, voice still rough with sleep. “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

Vi sighed, stepping into her pajama bottoms. “We slept late. Both of us.”

That seemed to wake Caitlyn up fast.

She suddenly pushed herself up, then winced—hard—one hand pressing against her lower stomach as she sucked in a sharp breath.

Vi was beside her in an instant. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

Caitlyn exhaled through her nose, tilting her head to give Vi a tired look. “I think we overdid it last night.” She shifted, testing the soreness, then sighed. “That part of me is a little sore.”

Vi blinked, then grinned. “Oh.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes.

Then, rubbing a hand over her face, she asked, “Who were you talking to earlier?”

Vi’s brain stuttered for a second—then shit. Powder.

Her eyes widened slightly. “Right. Powder.” She turned toward the door, already moving. “She’s downstairs. She called because she was worried.”

Caitlyn frowned, confused, but before she could say anything else, Vi was already halfway out of the room, rushing to finally let her sister in.

By the time Vi finally got the door open, Powder was already pissed.

She stood there, arms crossed, one eyebrow arched so high it practically hit her hairline. “What took you so long?” she snapped. “Were you getting rid of the body?”

Vi sighed, rubbing a hand down her face. “Yeah, Powder. That’s exactly what I was doing,” she deadpanned. “Or, you know, maybe I was just putting on clothes.”

Powder didn’t wait for an invitation—just brushed past her, stepping inside like she owned the place.

“So what the hell are you doing back here?” she asked, scanning the space like it somehow held the answers. “Don’t you have that condo with your mistress? Shouldn’t you be living there? Instead of here, with your very loyal wife who didn’t even look at another person while you were off screwing someone else?”

Vi groaned, running a hand through her hair. “I guess Caitlyn told you.”

Powder shot her a look. “Oh, so she’s the bad guy now? For mentioning the little inconvenience of you cheating?”

Vi exhaled, forcing down the irritation already bubbling up her throat. “No. I just meant—” She shook her head. “Caitlyn and I are trying, okay? We’re working things out. Giving the marriage another shot.”

Powder scoffed so hard Vi could practically feel the disgust radiating off her.

“Oh, how nice,” she sneered. “How generous of you to give your marriage another shot—like you weren’t the one who completely disrespected it in the first place.”

Vi’s jaw flexed, but she stayed quiet.

Because the worst part?

Powder wasn’t wrong.

Vi already knew she’d have to live with this. The stares. The judgment. The constant reminder of what she’d done, of the choice she had made. Caitlyn might have forgiven her—hell, Caitlyn barely even seemed to care—but that didn’t mean everyone else would.

Not everyone was privy to the problems in their marriage. Not everyone knew how broken things had been long before Vi ever screwed them up further. To them, it was simple. Vi cheated. Caitlyn didn’t deserve it.

And maybe that was fair.

But Powder was supposed to be different. Powder knew Vi, knew everything they had been through, everything Vi had struggled with. If anyone would try to see the bigger picture, it should have been her.

But apparently, not even Powder was on her side this time.

And that was fine. Vi wasn’t asking for sympathy. She wasn’t even asking for forgiveness.

But a little understanding would’ve been nice, too.

The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable. Vi exhaled slowly, her voice quieter than before. “I know I made a mistake. I already apologized to Cait—”

Powder cut her off, her voice sharp and biting. “Oh, an apology? Yeah, because that makes all the difference.” She let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. “You were out there having a whole damn affair—an affair, Vi. With a secret condo for your mistress, like a whole second life. How long did that go on? A few months? A year? More?”

Vi sighed, running a hand down her face. “I know I made a mistake, but—”

“No,” Powder snapped, eyes flashing as she cut her off again. “You didn’t make a mistake. You made a choice.” Her words hit like a hammer, sharp and unyielding.

Vi flinched but didn’t speak.

Powder scoffed. “A mistake is something you do without realizing how bad it is. A choice—this—is when you know exactly what you’re doing, but you do it anyway.” She leaned in slightly, her voice quieter now, but no less harsh. “You knew cheating was wrong, Vi. No matter how screwed up things were between you and Caitlyn, you knew. But you did it anyway. And why?” She let the question hang for a second before answering it herself. “Because you didn’t care about Caitlyn at all.”

Vi’s frustration cracked through, her voice tense. “I do care about her.”

Powder scoffed, shaking her head in outright disgust. She looked Vi up and down like she didn’t even recognize her anymore.

“Don’t say that,” she said, voice low and final. “Don’t stand here and tell me you cared about Caitlyn, or that you actually wanted this marriage to be real, or that her emotional distance made you cheat.” She let out a short, cold laugh, eyes narrowing. “Because if you had really cared? If you had actually wanted to fix things? Cheating would’ve been the last thing you did.” She took a step back, arms crossing tightly over her chest.

“You don’t hurt the people you care about like that, Vi.”

Vi was just about to snap back when the sound of footsteps made both her and Powder pause.

Caitlyn descended the stairs, wrapped in a robe over her nightgown, her hair still slightly mussed from sleep. She looked between them, taking in the tension lingering in the air, before offering Powder a small, easy smile.

“What are you doing here so early?” Caitlyn asked, her voice light, like this was just another morning. “We didn’t schedule a hangout today.”

Powder shook her head, grinning back. “Was just worried. You didn’t show up at work, and no one at the council building knew where you were.” She shrugged. “Apparently, Councilor Mishel Ferros was looking for you, so he came to me, thinking I’d know.”

Caitlyn nodded, unfazed. “Did he say what he needed?”

Before Powder could answer, Vi cut in. “When did Mishel become a councilor?” Her brows furrowed, her tone sharper than she intended.

Caitlyn blinked at her. “Last year. When Lady Ferros retired, Mishel took her place.”

Vi sat with that knowledge for a moment, her mind turning over it, brooding.

She knew Mishel Ferros. Knew he’d always had a thing for Caitlyn, even back when they were younger, back when Caitlyn barely paid him any attention. And now, he was the one looking for her? Going out of his way, chasing down Powder to track her down?

What the hell was so important that it couldn’t wait for Caitlyn to come to the office?

She barely noticed the way Powder was watching her, one eyebrow raised like she was amused by whatever was going on in Vi’s head.

Then Caitlyn called her name.

“Vi.”

Vi blinked, looking up.

“You do plan on going to work today, right?” Caitlyn asked, tone almost teasing.

And—shit.

Right. She was supposed to be at work. Hours ago.

Vi exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “Yeah. I should go get ready.” Then, glancing at Caitlyn, “You still going in today?”

Caitlyn shook her head. “No. I don’t think I’ll be able to.” She shifted slightly, still feeling the effects of last night, then added, “I’ll probably just rest. Since Powder’s here, we’ll hang out.”

Powder shot Vi a smug little smile, all yeah, that’s right, she’s spending the day with me, deal with it.

Vi rolled her eyes. “Have fun with that,” she muttered, already turning toward the stairs.

But even as she left them downstairs, her mind stayed stuck on one thing.

What the hell did Mishel Ferros want with Caitlyn?

As soon as Vi was out the door, Caitlyn turned to Powder with an amused sigh.

“Be nice,” she said, voice light but affectionate. “I heard you two arguing earlier.”

She gestured toward the couch, leading Powder to sit before heading toward the kitchen.

Powder scoffed, loud enough for her voice to carry. “Vi’s lucky I didn’t slap her.”

Caitlyn just shook her head, deciding not to engage, instead focusing on getting coffee ready—grabbing mugs, sorting through the pods, pressing the button on the machine. The low hum of the coffee maker filled the quiet, giving her a moment to breathe.

A few minutes later, she returned, handing Powder a cup before settling onto the couch beside her. “Did you have breakfast?” she asked, casually tucking her legs beneath her. “If not, I can order something.”

Powder smiled, shaking her head. “I already ate.” She took a sip of coffee, then tilted her head. “Buuut since you’re not going to work today, we could do lunch.”

Then, as if something had just clicked, she paused, narrowing her eyes slightly.

“You never take random days off,” Powder observed, her tone shifting from playful to curious. “Why aren’t you at work today?”

Caitlyn hummed into her coffee, taking her time before answering. “Just not feeling great.”

Powder leaned in immediately, pressing the back of her hand against Caitlyn’s forehead. “You don’t feel hot,” she muttered, frowning. Then, shifting, she placed her hand against Caitlyn’s neck, checking for any hint of fever.

And that’s when she saw it.

A very red mark.

Right there.

Powder’s mouth fell open.

Her voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper, eyes going wide.

“Caity…” she breathed, dragging out the name like she was about to gossip about someone else—except this time, the scandal was Caitlyn.

She leaned in, grinning now. “You two had… had…” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Seeeeeexxx.”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Powder, we’re married. It’s not exactly a big deal.”

Powder rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure it’s not a big deal.” She leaned back against the couch, arms stretching over the backrest. “But you guys only ever do it when you’re in heat.”

Then, with zero shame, she sniffed the air.

Caitlyn let out a laugh, swatting at Powder’s thigh. “Stop that.”

Powder just smirked, eyes glinting with mischief, but didn’t push further.

Caitlyn sighed, setting her coffee mug down. “Vi and I are trying to make our marriage work.”

Powder’s expression shifted, her smirk fading into something unreadable. “Why?” she asked, skeptical. “Why even try? Just get the divorce and move on. Find someone else.” She took a sip of coffee, then added, too casually, “Mishel Ferros is a solid option.”

Caitlyn laughed.

“You want me to start over? With Mishel?” She shook her head, amused. “I can barely handle fixing a five-year-old marriage, and now you want me to jump into something new?”

Powder shrugged. “Maybe you’d have better luck with someone else. Someone who—” she paused, eyes flicking toward Caitlyn’s face, “—wouldn’t cheat on you.”

Caitlyn exhaled, picking up her mug again. “That’s not fair,” she said simply. “We never know what someone is capable of. We don’t know their motives, what they might choose to do.” She hesitated, then added, “Besides… once Vi claims me, once we’re mated, I doubt she could or would cheat again.”

She didn’t realize she had said it out loud until she felt Powder’s sharp gaze on her.

Caitlyn hesitated, swirling the liquid in her cup before quietly admitting, “And if I started over now, I don’t even know if someone new would understand why I don’t want to be claimed. Or if they’d have the patience to deal with me. My personality. My shortcomings.”

Powder snorted. “And Vi does?”

Caitlyn blinked at her.

“If Vi understood you,” Powder continued, eyes sharp, “if she had all this patience you keep talking about—then she wouldn’t have cheated.”

Caitlyn inhaled slowly, pressing her lips together, trying to steady herself.

Then, carefully, she said, “Vi is trying. And I’m trying too.”

She met Powder’s gaze head-on. “We’re both trying to meet each other halfway. And it would be really nice,” she added, voice gentle but firm, “if you didn’t start a fight with your sister right now.”

Powder held her stare for a long moment.

Then she sighed, leaning back against the couch, taking another sip of coffee.

She didn’t agree. Caitlyn knew she didn’t. But at least, for now, she was letting it go.

Powder switched topics like flipping a switch, suddenly going on about Mishel Ferros—the so-called hunk of a councilor from the Ferros Clan.

Caitlyn resisted the urge to sigh.

Mishel wasn’t the typical Ferros man. Sure, he had the signature platinum blond hair, the sharp features that leaned more calculating than charming, but he didn’t have the usual lanky frame of his bloodline. He was built like a tank, broad-shouldered and solid in a way that didn’t quite match the usual refined elegance of the Ferros name.

He was nice enough. Always smiling, always polite, the kind of man who knew how to soften his features just enough to put people at ease.

Caitlyn supposed he was attractive—objectively, at least. But she never really thought about him that way. Powder, apparently, did.

“You know,” Powder was saying, “he’s a good guy. Smart. Got a stable career. And he’s built like he could lift a whole-ass building—”

Caitlyn hummed, barely listening.

She didn’t have a type, not really. She had only ever been with Vi, and even if she did have a type, she was pretty sure Mishel wouldn’t be it. If she had to choose, she wouldn’t go for the good boy look.

No, she’d go for the kind of person who looked like they’d start a fight in the middle of a grocery store but secretly made heart-shaped pancakes at home.

And right on cue—

Vi came down the stairs.

Caitlyn glanced over just as Vi walked down, dressed sharp in a fitted baby-blue long-sleeve that hugged her arms just right, hinting at the muscle underneath. The cream-colored pants weren’t loose, but not quite tight either—just snug enough that when she moved, when she sat, they’d cling to her thighs the way Caitlyn knew they would. And then the boots—heeled, adding just enough height to sharpen the whole look.

Powder rolled her eyes dramatically the moment she saw her sister.

Vi pfft’d under her breath, ignoring her, fingers moving expertly over the knot of her tie as she walked toward them.

Then she crouched in front of Caitlyn, one hand resting on her thigh, thumb absentmindedly stroking the fabric of her robe as she said, “I’m heading out.”

Caitlyn met her gaze, nodding simply. “Okay.”

Vi’s eyes flicked to the cup in her hands. “Did you make me one?”

Caitlyn glanced at her, then shook her head. “No. Didn’t know if you wanted one.”

Vi pressed her lips together, exhaling through her nose. “You know I drink coffee in the morning.”

“I do,” Caitlyn said simply. “But you were rushing. If I made you one and you didn’t drink it, it would’ve been a waste.”

Vi groaned, rolling her eyes. “Can I just have a sip of yours, then?”

Caitlyn took one last sip, then handed it over. “Finish it.”

Vi stood, tilting her head back to drink.

And Caitlyn just—watched.

Didn’t say anything. Didn’t think anything.

Just tilted her head back, eyes following the movement, watching as Vi’s throat moved with every swallow, as her jaw flexed, as the last of the coffee disappeared.

Vi set the empty mug down on the coffee table, glancing at Caitlyn. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

Caitlyn raised a brow. “About what?”

From the couch, Powder shot Vi a look, the kind that was half suspicious and half oh, this better be good. Vi sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.

“In private,” she said, pointedly looking at Powder.

Caitlyn sighed but stood up anyway, following Vi toward the foyer, where her jacket was already on.

Once they were alone, Caitlyn crossed her arms, tilting her head. “Well?”

Without thinking, Vi reached out, pressing the back of her hand to Caitlyn’s lower stomach, rubbing slow, absentminded strokes up and down. “You feeling okay?”

Caitlyn huffed a small, tired laugh. “I said I was fine.” Then, as an afterthought, “Maybe my body’s just… surprised. It didn’t expect last night.”

Vi hummed, nodding. “Maybe we should’ve taken it slow.”

“Maybe,” Caitlyn agreed, tilting her head slightly, lips twitching. “That would’ve been the smart thing to do.”

A pause.

Then Caitlyn squinted at her. “Why aren’t you leaving yet?”

Vi’s hand stilled against her stomach. Then, with the most innocent expression she could manage, she said, “I thought we agreed to daily kisses in our new terms.”

Caitlyn sighed, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. “We did. But we haven’t added it to the affidavit yet.”

Vi pouted. “So if it’s not on paper, I don’t get my daily kisses?”

Caitlyn groaned, shaking her head. “You can.”

She leaned in, aiming for Vi’s cheek—but Vi pulled back slightly.

“On the lips, please,” she murmured.

Caitlyn shot her a look.

Then—another sigh.

She leaned in again, pressing her lips softly against Vi’s, meaning for it to be quick, but Vi deepened it just slightly, one hand finding Caitlyn’s waist, pulling her in.

Her teeth caught Caitlyn’s lower lip, tugging lightly before letting it go. “Stop biting this, okay?” The words were whispered, lips still brushing against hers.

“Go to work,” Caitlyn replied, smiling. “We can’t both be unproductive just because we had one good night.”

Vi’s smirk widened. “So it was a good night for you.”

Caitlyn stilled.

Vi saw the way the tips of her ears pinked just slightly, and then—quietly, without meeting her eyes—Caitlyn mumbled, “It would’ve been a good night if I didn’t wake up feeling like my insides were rearranged.”

Vi blinked.

Then smirked.

But before she could say anything, Caitlyn had already turned, heading back toward the living room without another glance.

Vi watched her go, still grinning—then exhaled, shaking her head, wondering why the hell they never tried to be this close from the beginning.

By the time Vi finally made it to her office, it was almost noon—just in time for lunch.

She groaned internally.

This was a first. She had never woken up this late, never almost missed an entire workday. And all because she’d spent the night buried inside her wife.

Vi sat down, a slow grin tugging at her lips. Not a bad reason to be late, though.

Her secretary walked in a moment later, setting a neatly compiled list of missed calls and messages on her desk. “You’ve had quite a few inquiries this morning,” they said, scanning through them. “Oh, and—Lady Cassandra Kiramman called. She invited you and Councilor Kiramman to the Kiramman mansion this weekend.”

Vi tensed slightly, barely holding back a groan.

The Kirammans. Great.

Of course Caitlyn’s parents had heard the rumors. Of course they wanted to talk.

She exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose before finally muttering, “Call my mother in law back. Let her know we’ll be there.”

Then, pulling out her phone, she hesitated for a second. Should she call or text Caitlyn? They didn’t really do texts—it wasn't their thing. But if she called, Powder might start grumbling again, and Vi wasn’t in the mood for her sister’s commentary.

Text it is.

Vi: Hi 🙂

Caitlyn: Yes?

Vi: Your mother called my office. Invited us to the mansion this weekend.

Caitlyn: 🙄

Vi: Want me to say no?

Caitlyn: Would you like them to come to our house instead?

Vi winced. Yeah. That would be worse.

Vi: I already told my secretary to let her know we’ll be there.

Caitlyn: Ok.

Vi hesitated, tapping her fingers against the desk. Then:

Vi: Is my sister still there?

Caitlyn: Yes.

Vi: Having fun?

Caitlyn: Yes.

Vi rolled her eyes. So much detail.

Vi: Are we having dinner together later, or are you eating with Pow?

Caitlyn: We’ll have dinner together. But…

Vi narrowed her eyes.

Vi: But?

Caitlyn: I’ll order food, okay? What do you want for tonight?

Vi smirked.

Vi: Just you.

A pause. Then—

Caitlyn: Food. What food, Vi.

Vi chuckled, biting back a grin.

Vi: Hehe. Whatever you want. I’ll eat anything you give me.

Caitlyn: Hm. Ok. Go work.

Vi: Okay 🙂

Vi locked her phone, staring at it for a second longer before shaking her head, actually smiling now.

Yeah. Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all.

Chapter Text

“Ohhh, you two are texting now?” Powder drawled, watching as Caitlyn set her phone down and reached for her glass of wine.

Caitlyn didn’t look up, just swirled the deep red liquid in her glass before taking a slow sip. “We did say we’d try to make this marriage work.”

It was noon, but somewhere in Runeterra, she was sure it was five o’clock. That was reason enough for her and Powder to open a bottle while they waited for Sevika to bring back their lunch.

She shifted, crossing her legs, then uncrossing them just as quickly—still feeling the dull, lingering ache between her thighs. Not unexpected. It had been over a year since she and Vi had last had sex, and this time, there had been the knot too. A first for them. A stretch she hadn’t been prepared for.

Not that she was surprised by the soreness. If they started sleeping together more regularly, her body would adjust. The ache would fade.

Powder took a sip of her own drink, then—casually, but not really —asked, “Why aren’t you angrier at Vi?”

Caitlyn sighed. Deeply.

The kind of sigh that said, not this again.

“She didn’t cheat on me,” Caitlyn said simply, resting an elbow on the arm of the couch, fingers tracing along the rim of her glass. “Not in the way you think.”

Powder made a noise. A scoff, maybe. “She had an affair!”

Caitlyn rested her glass against her knee. “We were married for convenience , not love. Vi can’t betray something that was never real.”

Powder scoffed. “That’s some mental gymnastics, Caity.”

“It’s not,” Caitlyn countered. “Fidelity was never discussed in the terms of our marriage. There was no expectation for Vi to remain loyal.”

Powder let out a sharp laugh. “Yeah, because our parents thought you’d be mated by now. If you and Vi were bonded, she physically wouldn’t have been able to cheat.”

Caitlyn nodded. “Sure. But still —it wasn’t in the agreement. Regardless of the reason.”

She ran a hand through her hair, exhaling through her nose before finally stating, “I was never a real spouse to Vi. So how could I expect her to treat me like one?”

Powder stared at her, mouth tight, fingers gripping the stem of her glass like she was physically holding herself back.

Caitlyn met her gaze, steady. “I know you’re mad at her,” she said, softer this time. “I understand why.” She sighed, rolling the glass between her fingers. “You’re right—cheating is cheating . But it also depends on the context of the relationship.”

Powder scoffed, shaking her head. “That’s such—”

“Vi didn’t betray me,” Caitlyn continued. “The most I could argue is a breach of contract —but even that’s a reach since fidelity was never part of the original agreement.”

She leaned back, taking another sip of wine before adding, “Was it morally wrong? Sure. But in the context of our marriage?” A slow shake of her head. “It wasn’t infidelity. It wasn’t cheating. It was, at best, a breach of an agreement.”

She looked at Powder again, unwavering. “An agreement that never mentioned fidelity.”

Powder sighed—loudly, dramatically, like this entire conversation was physically exhausting her. Then, softer, almost hesitant, she said, “I just… don’t want you to get hurt.”

Caitlyn tilted her head, gaze steady. “I can’t be hurt emotionally if I don’t have feelings for Vi.”

Powder’s eyebrow immediately arched.

Smirking, she asked, “You sure about that?”

Caitlyn nodded. Clinical. Matter-of-fact. No hesitation. “I’m sure.”

Then, with a small shrug, she tugged absently at the hem of her robe. “Vi and I agreed to try—to make our marriage real, not just something we’re staying in for the sake of it.”

Powder’s eyes went wide.

She gasped, nearly spilling her wine. “Wait, what? You’re actually gonna try to—what? Be romantic? Fall in love?”

Caitlyn sighed, tipping her head back, staring at the ceiling like it might give her strength. “If that happens, I don’t mind.” She paused, then admitted, “I’m not trying to fall in love. I don’t even know what that means—I’d probably have to research it first.”

Powder snorted.

“But…” Caitlyn hesitated, her fingers running lightly along the rim of her glass. “I like Vi enough to try.”

That had Powder grinning. “So that’s why you don’t want to start fresh with someone new?”

Caitlyn chuckled, shaking her head. “Maybe.” She took another slow sip of wine, then added, “But mostly? I’ve been with Vi for five years now.”

Powder leaned in, waiting.

Caitlyn sighed. “I’d rather stay with someone I know —even slightly—than start over with a complete stranger.”

Powder pounced on that wording. “Slightly better?” she repeated, smirking.

Caitlyn smiled, tracing her finger along the mouth of her glass, her gaze distant. “Yes. Slightly better.”

Then, thoughtfully, “I don’t actually know much about Vi, even though we’ve lived together since we got married. Just little things. Superficial things.” She exhaled softly. “Like how pink is her favorite color for shirts. How she likes her coffee black, no sugar. How she doesn’t even set an alarm but somehow wakes up before me every morning. How her nightly routine has almost the same amount of skincare products as mine.”

She chuckled, shaking her head.

“And how,” she added, eyes flicking up at Powder, “she doesn’t like wearing underwear to sleep.”

Powder choked.

“Nope,” she coughed, setting her glass down. “Nope, nope, I did not need to know that.”

Caitlyn threw her head back and laughed.

When Caitlyn finally stopped laughing at Powder’s absolute horror, she took a slow sip of wine, still grinning.

Then, casually, she said, “Vi and I revisited the terms of our marriage.”

Powder raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“We didn’t change anything from the original,” Caitlyn clarified, setting her glass down and picking up her phone. “Just… added a few things. Stuff that might actually help us build a functional marriage.”

Powder leaned forward, intrigued. “Like what?”

Caitlyn smirked, unlocking her phone. “Okay. But —” she glanced up at Powder, “—don’t laugh.”

Powder scoffed. “I doubt I’ll find them funny.”

Caitlyn just smiled, then read them aloud:

"Breakfast together before work."
"Dinner together at night."
"Date night once a week—indoors or outdoors."
"Holidays every three months outside of Piltover."
"Monthly discussions about our lives, what we’ve been up to, what we’re working on."
"Weekly bonding through cooking together."
"Grocery shopping together every two weeks."
"Sex twice a week, Caitlyn initiates. Vi has the option to initiate but must give Caitlyn three hours’ notice so she can prepare."

Caitlyn paused.

Then, smirking, she added, “Daily kisses—pending official affidavit update.”

And finally, her own contribution:

“Don’t lie. Don’t cheat.”

When she finished reading, Powder just stared.

For a second, she looked genuinely stunned.

And then she burst out laughing.

She clutched her stomach, practically wheezing. “Are you serious?! That’s really what Vi added?”

Caitlyn just smiled. “Yes. That’s what Vi wanted.”

Powder kept laughing. Caitlyn just shook her head, sipping her wine, secretly wondering if it was weird that, reading those terms out loud…

They didn’t sound bad at all.

The doorbell rang, and Caitlyn stood too quickly— mistake.

A sharp ache flared between her thighs, and she winced, inhaling sharply as she caught herself on the armrest.

Powder, of course, noticed. “Uh… you good?”

Caitlyn forced a small smile. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

Then, with careful, measured steps, she made her way to the door, already thinking—she should tell Vi not to knot next time. At least, not until she got used to having sex again.

But then again… she was about to ovulate soon.

And the entire point of knotting was to get pregnant.

Which meant they’d have to do it again.

Caitlyn exhaled through her nose, half in thought, half in dread. Could her body take it? She already felt like Vi had split her in two last night, but at the same time —

It was also… good.

Or, at least, she had kind of enjoyed it.

She was still mulling it over when she reached the door.

Sevika stood on the other side, holding the food Caitlyn had ordered for lunch.

Before Caitlyn could reach for the bags, Sevika said, “I’ll take it to the kitchen.”

Caitlyn stepped aside, smiling slightly. “Thanks.”

She opened the door wider to let her through—because Sevika was a lot.

Tall. Solid. Built like a boulder.

Gruff and blunt and not exactly the warmest person, but she’d been working for Caitlyn for five years now—first as her driver, then her bodyguard. Vi had been the one to hire her out of Zaun, and Vi was the one who still paid her salary.

Sevika set the food down on the counter, then turned to Caitlyn. “You need anything else?”

Caitlyn shook her head. “Not now. But later, I’ll need you to pick up dinner for Vi and me.”

Sevika gave a small nod. “Got it.”

She was already heading for the door when Caitlyn hesitated, watching her go.

Five years.

That’s how long Sevika had worked for her. Five whole years.

And Caitlyn barely knew anything about her.

Not where she spent her free time, not what she did when she wasn’t working, not even if she had friends outside of this job. And honestly, that wasn’t so surprising—Caitlyn barely knew Vi either, and she was married to her.

Maybe that should change.

Maybe she should start improving all of her relationships—including the one with the person whose entire job was keeping her alive.

Vi groaned at the absolute mountain of work waiting for her.

Being late was already bad enough, but now she had to catch up , which meant returning calls, going through emails, and— ugh —responding accordingly.

This was the part she hated.

People liked to say that Vi was successful because she was hardworking . That was the biggest lie she’d ever heard. She wasn’t successful because she worked hard —she was successful because she was lazy.

She just happened to be really good at making her job as easy as possible while still getting top-tier results . Efficiency was her best friend. Unnecessary steps? Gone . Pointless procedures? Cut . The work still got done, still looked flawless, but she wasted zero time making it harder than it had to be.

She was midway through an email when the office door swung open.

Ekko walked in. With a stack of paperwork.

Vi stared. “Oh, hell no.”

Ekko smirked, all too pleased with himself, before dropping the whole thing onto her desk.

Vi groaned. “I’m afraid to ask what this is, but I will ask anyway—what is this?”

Ekko crossed his arms. “Weapon dossiers.”

Vi let her head fall back against her chair. “Of course they are.”

“You need to review them.”

Vi pressed a hand to her forehead. “Okay, how many?” She grabbed the top document, already dreading the answer.

Ekko, far too amused, explained, “Five of each type—pistols, rifles, cannons, machine guns, grenade launchers.”

Vi dropped the file back onto the stack.

Then groaned much louder. “And when, exactly, do I need to have these done?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

Vi squinted at him. “And why am I only getting them now?”

Ekko’s smirk widened. “Because you told me to bring them today.”

Vi frowned.

Ekko shrugged. “And you were late.”

Vi lowered her head onto her desk, mumbling something unintelligible into the wood.

Ekko leaned forward. “Sorry, what was that?”

Vi lifted her head just enough to glare. “I said I have to take work home.”

Ekko snorted.

Vi sighed dramatically, shoving the papers aside like that might make them disappear. She hated taking work home.

She especially hated overtime.

Nothing— literally nothing —justified overtime in Vi’s book. Not deadlines, not emergencies, not even the fate of Piltover itself.

And yeah, okay, sometimes she had to take work home, and normally that was fine —if it was rare.

But she and Caitlyn were trying now. Working on things. And dragging work into the house?

Not exactly the best way to start fixing their marriage.

After lunch, Caitlyn and Powder stayed sprawled on the couch, talking about everything and nothing.

It was calm. Easy.

Until, of course, Powder decided to steer the conversation into dangerous territory.

She was humming to herself, already a little too tipsy from their second bottle of wine, when—completely out of nowhere—she asked, “Sooo… the whole twice-a-week sex clause in your marriage terms…”

Caitlyn exhaled slowly. “What about it? ”

Powder swirled her wine, eyes glinting. “Who added that?”

Caitlyn, completely flatly: “Both of us.”

Powder raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.” A slow smirk tugged at her lips. “But why are you the one who’s supposed to initiate?”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes. “Because Vi wanted to make sure I actually wanted to have sex. So it has to come from me first.”

Powder guffawed.

“Oh Janna,” she wheezed. “Vi knows you’re not really into sex, right?”

Caitlyn smiled. “Oh, Vi knows.” She swirled her own wine, then added, “But … I promised her I’d try to learn to enjoy it.”

That made Powder pause, tilting her head.

Then, thoughtfully, she asked, “Wait… so… is Vi not good in bed?”

Caitlyn laughed, caught off guard. “No, I think she is.”

Powder grinned. “You think?”

“Well, yeah,” Caitlyn said, smirking. “I can’t exactly compare —she’s the only person I’ve ever had sex with.”

Powder made a face. “True, true.”

Caitlyn leaned back into the couch. “But even if Vi is good in bed, if I’m not into it, it’s kind of wasted on me, isn’t it?”

Powder stretched out the word riiight, dragging every syllable. Then, after a long sip of wine, she smirked. “Buuut … you did promise to try and enjoy it.”

Caitlyn nodded. “Yes. I did.”

That was apparently the only invitation Powder needed.

Her smirk widened. “Sooo… did you enjoy it last night?”

Caitlyn froze.

Then, before she could stop it, she felt heat creeping up her neck.

“…Yes.”

Powder squealed and kicked her feet , giddy as hell , while Caitlyn groaned into her wine glass.

And because apparently this conversation wasn’t mortifying enough, Caitlyn sighed and added, “We’re… trying for a pup again. That’s why we decided to increase the number of times we—”

Powder gasped, cutting her off with another excited squeal.

Caitlyn just shook her head, sipping her wine, wondering why she ever thought drinking with Powder was a good idea in the first place.

Just as Caitlyn thought the conversation couldn’t get worse, Powder abruptly stopped squealing.

Feet still. Expression serious.

Caitlyn blinked. “What?”

Powder turned to her, all too calmly. Then, smiling, she asked, “So… have you actually researched sex?”

Caitlyn blinked. “Obviously.”

Powder raised an eyebrow.

Caitlyn sighed. “Before Vi and I got married, I studied everything —how intercourse happens, biological processes, heat cycles—”

Powder groaned and threw her head back. “No, not that.”

Caitlyn frowned, watching her skeptically. “Then what?”

Powder rolled her eyes. “I mean, have you looked into—oh, I don’t know—positions? Foreplay? Kinks? Fetishes?”

Caitlyn exhaled slowly , like she was already regretting this conversation. “Yes. I read about different positions. I’ve seen research studies. Statistics. Surveys.”

Powder’s grin turned downright wicked.

“Okay, okay,” she said, leaning in. “But have you watched it?”

Caitlyn froze.

Then, suddenly sitting completely upright, she spluttered. “I am not watching porn.”

Powder cackled.

“Not even for research?” she teased.

Caitlyn groaned, rubbing her temples. “I highly doubt there is anything I can learn from watching porn.”

Powder wagged a finger. “Don’t speak too soon.”

Then, shrugging, she added, “Look—if you really wanna learn to enjoy sex, and you’re trying for a baby, maybe watching some would help you figure out what positions you and Vi actually like. Y’know, mix it up.”

Caitlyn exhaled sharply. “Powder—”

“Because,” Powder continued, ignoring her entirely, “you cannot just be lying there on your back with Vi on top every single time. That’s tragic, Caity.”

Caitlyn groaned, lowering her head into her hand. “I am not watching porn. Vi and I will figure it out.”

Powder grinned. “At least ask Vi what she likes, then.”

That made Caitlyn pause.

She hadn’t actually done that.

“…Fine,” she muttered. “ Maybe I’ll ask later.”

Powder beamed. “Orrrr—” she said, dragging out the word, “—you and Vi could watch porn together.”

Caitlyn went rigid.

Then, completely aghast, she snapped, “I am absolutely never watching porn with Vi.”

Powder howled, kicking her feet again. “You never know , Caity! Maybe it’d bring you closer!”

And then—

Then… with zero warning, completely unprovoked, Powder grabbed the remote, flipped on Caitlyn’s TV, pulled up the browser—

And searched for the filthiest site she could find.

Caitlyn gasped, horrified.

“POWDER! ”

Powder, completely shameless, typed into the search bar: "Alpha Hardcore Knotting sex"

Caitlyn sputtered, utterly scandalized. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING—?”

And then—Janna—the video started playing.

Loud.
Lewd.
Obscene.
Indecent levels of moaning echoing through the house.

Caitlyn’s soul left her body.

She lunged for the remote like her life depended on it, snatched it from Powder’s hand, and slammed the TV off so fast it was a miracle the remote didn’t break.

Breathing hard, she turned slowly, leveling Powder with a deadly glare.

Powder, sipping her wine casually, shrugged. “What?”

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes. “How —” she pointed at the TV, voice still recovering from shock, “—do you even know about that website?”

Powder snorted. “I’m a big girl, Caity.” She smirked. “I’m allowed to watch those things.”

Caitlyn groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Well, not in this house.”

Powder just grinned, completely unrepentant.

Caitlyn exhaled, staring at Powder and then the remote and then her wine, deeply reconsidering all of her life choices. Then she glanced at the time—5 PM.

Vi would be leaving work soon.

Great, the perfect excuse to finally stop talking about whatever all this was.

She paused the conversation, picking up her phone. “I need to order dinner,” she said, then glanced at Powder. “Are you staying?”

Powder stretched out on the couch, considering. “Why not just cook?”

Caitlyn immediately put her phone down. Back straight. Chin up. “In this house,” she said, voice grave , “there is an unwritten rule.”

Powder raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

Caitlyn continued. “The kitchen is Vi’s territory. No human, animal, or anything in between is to set foot in Vi’s kitchen and make a mess of it.”

Powder snorted. “Just say you don’t know how to cook and leave it at that.”

Caitlyn shrugged, unbothered. “That too.”

Powder shook her head, amused. “Nah, I’m not staying.” She stretched again, smirking. “Still mad at Vi.”

Caitlyn sighed, leaning forward, resting a hand on Powder’s thigh.

Gently, she said, “I know you’re mad at her. And I’m not asking you to forgive her.”

Powder’s smirk faded slightly, but she didn’t pull away.

Caitlyn squeezed her thigh lightly. “You being angry about Vi cheating? Valid. Very valid.” Then, softer, “But you also need to understand that, in the context of my marriage, it wasn’t a big deal.”

Powder exhaled sharply, looking away, jaw tight.

Caitlyn gave her a moment, then added, “All I ask is that you don’t be too mean to her. Don’t be too harsh.”

Powder didn’t say anything.

Caitlyn sighed again, pressing her palm against Powder’s leg. “Vi owned up to what she did, and we’re trying again. That’s all that matters to me.”

Powder’s mouth twitched —like she wanted to argue, but also didn’t.

Caitlyn softened her voice. “And I really don’t want to be stuck playing referee between you two every time you argue.”

Powder finally looked back at her, expression unreadable.

Caitlyn held her gaze. “You’re my best friend. But Vi is my spouse . And it’s really hard for me to sit there and watch when you two fight.” She squeezed Powder’s thigh once more, then added, “So please. Pretty please . Just… try not to be too harsh on her.”

Powder groaned, flopping dramatically onto the couch. “Ugh, fine. No promises, but fine.”

Caitlyn smirked, picking her phone back up. “Good. Now, let’s talk about something far more important.”

Powder raised an eyebrow.

Caitlyn grinned. “What should I order for dinner?”

Powder actually gave Caitlyn good suggestions before she left.

She rattled off a list of Vi’s favorite meals—half of which Caitlyn already knew, but still, it was helpful. Of course, Caitlyn could only pick two. This wasn’t some banquet.

She settled on beef stew curry—which Powder swore Vi loved , and Caitlyn had seen her eat plenty of times before—plus a healthy fruit and vegetable salad, because Vi was a health buff.

And because Caitlyn’s Ionian blood would never allow a meal without rice, she added steamed rice to the order.

Satisfied, she called Sevika.

“Pick up the food from the restaurant,” Caitlyn instructed, “but first, take Powder home.”

Powder, already stretching, grinned. “Aww, booze and escort service? You’re spoiling me, Caity.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes.

Powder pulled her into a hug, voice dropping to a whisper. “And seriously, think about my suggestion, you know, about the whole porn bonding thing.”

Caitlyn stiffened.

Then immediately pulled back and swatted Powder’s shoulder. “Absolutely not. ”

Powder cackled.

They walked to the door, arms linked, Powder still looking way too entertained as she teased, “Just don’t forget to tell me if you actually ask my sister’s preferences—”

“Eww,” Caitlyn cut in, face twisting in disgust. “I will not. ”

Powder lost it, laughing as she climbed into the car, Sevika holding the door open for her.

Caitlyn watched the car pull away, shaking her head.

With Powder gone, she picked up her phone and dialed Vi’s number.

Three rings.

Then Vi answered, her voice slightly distracted, like she was sifting through a mess of papers.

Caitlyn didn’t waste time. “Where are you?”

“About to leave,” Vi replied, still shuffling through something on the other end. “Just grabbing a few things first.”

Caitlyn nodded, more to herself than anything. “Okay. Powder just left, and I’m about to take a bath.”

Vi let out a small hmm on the other end. “Nice. Have fun.”

Caitlyn smirked faintly. “I will. See you later.”

“See you,” Vi echoed.

They hung up.

And for once, it felt… easy.

Vi pulled into the driveway at the exact same time Sevika did.

Perfect timing.

She killed the engine, grabbed the stack of documents she did not want to deal with, and stepped out just as Sevika emerged from Caitlyn’s car, arms loaded with bags of food.

Vi nodded toward the front door. “I got it,” she said, shifting the paperwork in her arms. “Just take it inside.”

Sevika didn’t need to be told twice. She stepped past Vi, shouldering the door open while Vi followed, kicking it shut behind them.

Once the bags were safely on the kitchen counter, Vi sighed. “Alright, you’re done for the day. Caitlyn won’t need you anymore tonight.”

Sevika gave a simple nod. “Thanks.”

Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and headed back outside.

Vi watched as she got into Caitlyn’s car and pulled out of the driveway.

Technically, the car belonged to Caitlyn, but Sevika always took it home at night—made sense, really. No point wasting money on transport when she had a car at her disposal.

Vi scratched the back of her neck, thinking. Come to think of it…

The drive to Zaun was hell in traffic. If Sevika ever got sick of it, maybe she’d want to move to Piltover. Caitlyn had a few apartment buildings her parents had gifted her—maybe they could set Sevika up in one. Vi made a mental note to ask.

For now, though—food.

She wandered into the dining area, peeking into the takeout bags, and immediately smiled when the familiar scent of beef stew curry hit her.

Her favorite .

Her comfort food .

With the kind of workload she had waiting for her tonight? Yeah , she was gonna need the comfort.

Nice choice, baby.

She started plating everything, setting up the table so it actually looked like a meal instead of just takeout containers scattered around. When that was done, she stretched, then headed upstairs to check if Caitlyn was done with her bath.

When she stepped into their bedroom, the bathroom door was still closed, steam curling out from under the gap.

She called out, “You gonna be a while?”

Caitlyn’s muffled voice came through the door. “Almost done!”

Vi leaned against the doorframe for a second. “Alright. I’ll be downstairs.”

She turned, made her way back down, and dropped herself onto the living room couch.

That’s when she noticed it—two bottles of wine on the table, one completely empty, the other halfway there.

She let out a soft chuckle. Looked like Caitlyn and Powder had a long conversation.

Reaching for Caitlyn’s glass, Vi poured herself a small sip, letting the wine settle on her tongue as she grabbed the remote and turned on the TV.

And immediately, almost choked on her wine.

Because there—on the very large screen—was porn.

Loud, obscene, explicit porn.

An alpha, knotting an omega in a position that had Vi’s eyebrows slowly climbing up her forehead.

She tilted her head.

Huh.

That’s… actually not a bad—

THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP—

Vi barely had time to register the stampede of footsteps before Caitlyn came flying down the stairs, nothing but a towel wrapped around her, hair still damp, eyes wild.

She stormed straight into the living room, ripped the remote from Vi’s hand, and slammed the TV off.

Then just stood there.

Vi just stared at her.

Caitlyn was panting, her face completely pink.

Looking like she’d just witnessed her own funeral in real time.

Vi smirked, sipping her wine, utterly amused.

“So,” she drawled, “you wanna explain that?”

Chapter Text

Standing there, still wrapped in a damn bath towel, Caitlyn felt the weight of Vi’s gaze, on the couch, looking up at her, expectantly… waiting for an explanation.

Not impatient. Not demanding. Just… sitting there, watching her, eyebrow slightly raised, clearly enjoying every second of Caitlyn’s complete and utter humiliation.

The silence stretched.

Caitlyn exhaled slowly. “I’m going to get changed for dinner.”

Vi hummed, lips curving slightly. “Yeah. You do that.”

Caitlyn turned immediately and walked upstairs, resisting the very strong urge to strangle her meddling sister-in-law.

It was bad enough that Caitlyn had been subjected to that absolute obscenity on her TV, in her own living room, but now Vi—her spouse—had seen it too.

Oh, Powder was dead.

The moment Caitlyn got her hands on her, she was dead.

Still muttering to herself, Caitlyn entered their bedroom and went straight to her dresser, grabbing fresh clothes. She was about to change when she heard the door click behind her.

Vi had followed her in.

Caitlyn glanced at her in the mirror—Vi’s expression still held the remnants of a very amused smile as she pulled off her jacket and reached for more comfortable clothes.

Caitlyn sighed and quietly said, “I have a very good explanation for what was on the TV.”

Vi made a noncommittal sound as she tugged off her belt. “Oh, I don’t doubt that at all.”

Then she grinned. “And I’d love to hear it.”

Caitlyn groaned.

She grabbed her underwear and started pulling them on, pointedly ignoring the way Vi—now taking off her pants—was still very much in the room.

This was…

Weird.

They didn’t do this.

They didn’t get changed together. Not at the same time.

Usually, by the time Caitlyn got home, Vi was already in her house clothes, already settled. In the mornings, Vi left before her. Even on weekends, their routine was set—Caitlyn used the bathroom first.

They just… never overlapped like this.

And yet, here they were.

Caitlyn inhaled, slipping into a long nightgown—slightly sheer, but comfortable—while Vi pulled on a tank top and sweatpants.

Neither of them said anything about it.

Caitlyn sat at her vanity, brushing out her damp hair, Vi leaning casually against the dresser, waiting.

And when Caitlyn was done, they went downstairs together.

In five years of living together, they had barely shared a meal.

Maybe twice a month—if that.

And when they did? It was awkward. Heavy. A silence so thick it felt like it had weight, pressing between them, filling up the space where normal married couples might have talked.

Caitlyn really, really hoped tonight wouldn’t be like that.

They sat down, taking their usual spots—Vi at the head of the table, Caitlyn at the opposite end.

But then Vi glanced at her.

It was a short dining table, only sat eight people, but still—Vi tilted her head, brow raised. “You gotta sit all the way over there?”

Caitlyn blinked.

Vi gestured to the chair beside her. “Come sit next to me.”

Caitlyn smiled—just a little—and nodded. “Yes, okay. I can do that.”

She picked up her plate and moved to Vi’s right side, settling into the chair beside her.

Vi didn’t say anything—just started scooping rice onto Caitlyn’s plate before serving herself.

Caitlyn watched as Vi ladled beef stew curry into a small bowl for her, but poured hers directly over her rice, mixing it in without a second thought.

“This is my favorite meal,” Vi murmured.

Caitlyn nodded. “I know.”

Vi smiled.

They ate in quiet for a while, and surprisingly, it wasn’t uncomfortable. Maybe because the porn incident had finally faded from memory, or maybe because the effort they were making—this attempt at something real—was actually working.

Then, without really thinking about it, Caitlyn asked, “How was work?”

Vi blinked.

Like the thought had never occurred to her that Caitlyn might ask something like that.

Then, slowly, she smiled again. “Brutal,” she admitted, shaking her head. “I only missed half a day and I swear, it was chaos. I’m never doing that again.”

Caitlyn chuckled, picking at her rice. “So… maybe we shouldn’t have sex at night anymore.”

Vi immediately put her fork and spoon down.

Then turned to Caitlyn, eyes wide, face so heartbreakingly innocent, like a puppy being threatened with its favorite toy being taken away.

“Why,” Vi said, carefully, “would you say that?”

Caitlyn smirked. “Well, you just said—”

“It wasn’t the sex’s fault,” Vi argued, completely serious. “We just forgot to set the alarm.”

Caitlyn laughed. “You never set an alarm.”

Vi frowned. “How do you know that?”

Caitlyn shrugged, taking a slow sip of water. “We’ve shared a bed for five years. I’ve never heard an alarm go off. And I’m not that heavy of a sleeper to not hear when an alarm goes off.”

Vi narrowed her eyes, staring at caitlyn for a second, clearly processing this information, and then she smirked and went back to her food.

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Vi raised her head and leaned back slightly, still grinning. “Didn’t know you noticed so many things about me.”

Caitlyn smiled. “I know you notice things too.”

Vi nodded. “I do.” She took another bite of food.

Caitlyn tilted her head slightly. “Like what?”

She picked up her spoon, scooping up some beef stew—the broth rich, the meat tender, the rice perfectly soft. The salad could wait.

Vi chewed thoughtfully for a second, then said, “I know you hate when the room’s too hot. You always struggle to sleep when it is.”

Caitlyn hummed, nodding. True.

Vi took another bite, then added, “And on weekdays, you shower. But on weekends, you soak in the tub.”

Caitlyn smiled, taking another spoonful. “Mmhmm.”

Then—slightly more smug—Vi said, “Almost all your underwear is black or red.”

Caitlyn nearly choked.

She swallowed quickly, laughing. “Have you been snooping through my dresser?”

Vi snorted. “Nope. But when the laundry gets delivered, I see you putting everything away.”

Caitlyn shook her head, amused.

“…What else?” she asked.

Vi pretended to think, then grinned. “That you don’t know how to cook.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes.

Vi leaned back in her chair. “That’s why you always eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner out—which, by the way, is also why a massive chunk of our monthly expenses is just your food money.”

Caitlyn choked on a laugh, full-on cackling now. “It is not.”

Vi raised an eyebrow. “It absolutely is.”

Caitlyn scoffed. “Is not.”

Vi smirked. “Have you seen our expenditures?”

Caitlyn just took another bite, pointedly ignoring her.

Then, out of nowhere, Vi asked, “Okay, so what about you? What do you know about me? Aside from the fact that I don’t set an alarm.”

Caitlyn smiled, pretending to think hard as she chewed her food. She let the silence drag for effect, watching Vi wait, before finally answering.

“You use your upstairs office,” Caitlyn said casually, “not as an actual office—but as a gym.”

Vi barked out a laugh. “I sometimes use it as an office.”

Caitlyn shook her head. “You sometimes bring paperwork upstairs. But mostly, you’re in there lifting weights.”

Vi smirked but didn’t argue.

Caitlyn took another bite, then added, “You hate when the air-conditioning is too cold—so after we had it installed, you stopped sleeping in just your boxers and started wearing pajamas, or shirts and sweatpants.”

Vi coughed. “I get cold easily.”

“Mmm,” Caitlyn hummed knowingly.

She set her fork down, wiping her mouth before continuing. “Your favorite sport to watch is boxing. And you regularly make bets with Jayce when there’s a fight.”

Vi raised an eyebrow. “Regularly is a strong word.”

Caitlyn smirked. “They’re not small bets, either.”

Vi leaned forward. “Wait—how do you know that?”

Caitlyn laughed. “Vi, we have joint accounts. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where money mysteriously disappears to or comes from after a major match.”

Vi blinked, then threw her head back and laughed.

Caitlyn smiled. “I also know when you lose a bet with Jayce, because you spend the rest of the night staring at nothing like you’ve just seen Janna.”

Vi groaned, shaking her head. “For the record, I haven’t lost that much to Jayce.”

“Sure.” Caitlyn took another sip of her drink, knowing full well how many times Vi lost to Jayce.

Vi huffed, but there was a small smile tugging at her lips. “It’s kinda surprising,” she admitted. “That you notice all this stuff.”

Caitlyn shrugged, playing with the edge of her napkin. “It’s hard not to notice things when you live with someone for five years.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them.

Caitlyn could have gone on—could have listed a dozen more things.

But those were all just… surface-level details.

She knew what Vi liked, what she did, what habits she had—but not why. Not what made her truly happy, or what could ruin her day. Not what she looked like when she was actually angry, or how she handled being upset. Not what scared her, what made her feel safe, what her first instinct was when she was hurt.

And then she realized—Vi didn’t really know those things about her, either.

Everything Vi had listed earlier had been just as shallow.

After five years of marriage, they had only ever observed each other.

They had never really learned each other at all.

From the corner of Caitlyn’s eye, she saw Vi wiped her mouth with a napkin, then glanced at Caitlyn before reaching out, thumb grazing the corner of Caitlyn’s lips.

Caitlyn blinked.

She hadn’t expected that.

She should’ve pulled back, should’ve swatted Vi’s hand away, but she… didn’t. She just let Vi do it.

When Vi was done, she smiled. “Thanks for dinner. It was great.”

Caitlyn only hummed in response, not entirely sure what to say—because what was there to say?—then Vi stood, leaned down, and—

Oh.

Vi kissed her.

It was soft. Sweet. Completely unexpected.

Caitlyn should’ve pulled away—should’ve said something—but Vi had looked so happy about dinner, and Caitlyn didn’t want to ruin that for her.

So she just… let it happen.

When Vi pulled back, there was a smirk on her lips. “You taste like my favorite meal.”

Caitlyn hummed, raising an eyebrow. “Is that right?”

Vi grinned, leaning in again, and this time, the kiss was deeper. A slow pull of lips, a subtle press of tongue—ending with Vi catching Caitlyn’s bottom lip, sucking it for just a second before letting go.

Caitlyn exhaled.

Then—

Vi had to ruin it.

“So,” Vi said casually, “this might be a good time for you to explain why there was porn on our TV.”

Caitlyn groaned, tilting her head back. “Why can’t you just let that go?”

Vi chuckled. “And miss out on knowing what exactly is going on in my wife’s mind? Absolutely not.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes and stood, grabbing her plate and glass, walking toward the kitchen.

Vi followed. Obviously.

There was no escaping this conversation.

Janna, she was going to kill Powder.

Setting her dishes in the sink, Caitlyn turned around, leaning back against the counter, hands bracing the edge as Vi stood in front of her—arms crossed, smiling like she knew she was winning.

Caitlyn exhaled heavily. “Fine.”

Vi waited.

Caitlyn ran a hand through her hair. “Powder… suggested that I might find it beneficial to—” she grimaced “—watch porn. For research.”

Vi snorted.

Then she laughed. “Research? For what?”

Caitlyn groaned. “For… positions. Or whatever. What we might like. Or… different things we could try.”

She crossed her arms and shook her head. “It was stupid.”

Vi, to Caitlyn’s horror, did not agree.

“That’s… actually not that stupid.”

Caitlyn snapped her eyes up, raising an eyebrow.

Vi leaned against the counter, arms still crossed, watching Caitlyn very closely.

“I’m just saying,” Vi mused, “if you watch alone, you might not get much out of it. But if we watch together… we could actually talk about the positions. Figure out what works for us.”

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes.

“For research purposes,” Vi added quickly, lips twitching.

Caitlyn’s eyebrows did not lower.

“Are you just saying this as an excuse to watch porn with me?”

Vi’s expression was all innocence. “No. Of course not.” A pause. Then, grinning, “But it’s not a bad idea either. We could make a whole thing out of it—pretend it’s a documentary.”

Caitlyn sighed, shaking her head.

Then—completely out of nowhere—she asked, “Do you watch porn?”

Vi blinked. “What?”

Caitlyn gave her a look. “We agreed—no lying. That was in our new terms.”

Vi let out a long, suffering sigh. “Fine. Yes. I watch. Sometimes.”

Caitlyn scoffed. Arms still crossed over her chest, but just a little tighter. “When are those sometimes?”

Vi shook her head. “I am not about to incriminate myself.”

“Fine.” Caitlyn shrugged, turning toward the table to grab the remaining dishes. “Where do you watch, then?”

Vi picked up a few plates to help, walking behind her. “Not on the living room TV, that’s for sure.”

Caitlyn gave her a pointed look, then—lower now, quieter—she asked, “Do you get aroused when you watch it?”

Vi snorted. “Isn’t that the point?”

Caitlyn just stared at her.

Shaking her head, thoroughly put out.

Vi grinned.

As Caitlyn placed the dishes in the sink, Vi—relentless—pressed, “So… do you wanna watch together?”

Caitlyn huffed, turning the faucet on. “No.”

Vi didn’t let up. “C’mon, it’d be good research.”

Caitlyn groaned, rinsing a plate. Then, flatly, “Can you promise to keep your hands to yourself while we’re watching?”

Vi sputtered, offended.

Then, like a pleading puppy, “Do I have to promise?”

In the end, Vi did promise to keep her hands to herself—begrudgingly, of course.

But sacrifices had to be made if she was going to watch porn with her wife.

For research purposes.

They cleaned up the dining area together, Vi taking over dish duty—rinsing the plates, scraping off any food bits, and shoving everything into the dishwasher while Caitlyn of all things went to grab a notebook. An actual notebook.

Because she was going to take notes.

Vi had to physically stop herself from laughing.

While waiting for Caitlyn to come back, she grabbed four bottles of beer from the fridge—because, honestly, she was going to need them. Then, on her way back to the couch, her eyes landed on the stack of paperwork she’d brought home from the office.

Ugh.

She should start reviewing those.

But also—when would she ever get another chance to watch porn with Caitlyn?

Exactly.

Some things were more important than work. And if sacrifices had to be made, then so be it. She could pull an all-nighter if she really had to.

Minutes later, Caitlyn came back down, carrying her notebook and pen, sitting beside Vi on the sofa, crossing her legs like this was some official research project and not the absolute most ridiculous thing they had ever done as a married couple.

Vi wordlessly handed her a bottle of beer.

Caitlyn took it.

Vi opened her own, took a long swig, then reached for the remote—

Only for Caitlyn to snatch it right out of her hand.

Vi gawked.

Caitlyn turned to her, gaze steady. “If we’re doing this, you keep your hands to yourself, and we discuss—not just watch for the sake of watching.”

Vi exhaled, dramatically. “Yes, yes, yes, I already promised—can we please just start?”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, then pointed at the paused video on screen. But before hitting play, she hesitated, turning to Vi again.

Vi groaned. “What now?”

Caitlyn shook her head. “Is this the video we’re watching?”

Vi raised an eyebrow. “It’s already there. Why not?”

Caitlyn exhaled through her nose like she was deeply suffering but finally—finally—hit play.

And immediately—

Loud, obscene moaning blasted through the living room.

Caitlyn groaned and scrambled for the volume, turning it down to something that wouldn’t make the neighbors call the enforcers.

Vi, meanwhile, just took another long sip of her beer, biting down a very pleased grin.

The video was thirty minutes long. Not super long, but long enough.

For the first three minutes, Vi and Caitlyn sat there, watching in silence as the alpha in the video pounded the omega in a very aggressive doggy-style position.

Caitlyn looked… deeply displeased.

Vi noticed immediately.

She grabbed the remote, paused the video, and turned to her wife. “You don’t like this position?”

Caitlyn groaned, rolling her eyes like this was a stupid question.

“It’s not that,” she said, but then paused, her expression shifting slightly before she sighed. “I just… I can’t appreciate the video if there’s no plot. The actors aren’t even acting.”

Vi blinked.

Then groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Caitlyn. It’s porn. The actors’ job is to have sex in front of the camera, not win an Academy Award.”

Caitlyn huffed. “I know that, but can’t we at least find something with a little acting? A semblance of plot? Anything?”

Vi stared at her, deadpan. “Porn with a script is not good.”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “You’d know, wouldn’t you? Since you watch porn.”

Vi groaned louder. “Sometimes.”

Caitlyn nodded very seriously. “Right. Sometimes.”

Vi was going to lose it.

She ran a hand through her hair, took a deep breath, and sacrificed her dignity. “Fine. We’ll change the video.”

She pulled up the search bar and typed: “Alpha romantic sex.”

Caitlyn scoffed.

Vi turned to her, exasperated. “Now what?”

Caitlyn gave her a look. “Why are you searching for romantic?”

Vi was about to implode.

Had she known that watching porn with Caitlyn would be this stressful, she would have gladly spent the night reviewing boring-ass documents for work instead. But no. They were already here. Sacrifices had been made. She was committed to the bit.

Vi inhaled very deeply and asked, “Do you still want to watch knotting videos?”

Caitlyn turned pink.

She hesitated for half a second, then nodded. “Sure. That’s fine.”

Vi exhaled through her nose. “Okay. So, not romantic. Got it.”

Caitlyn nodded. “Not romantic.”

Vi processed this. “So we still want the knotting porn, but not romantic… but also not full-on hardcore?”

Caitlyn sighed. “Yes. Exactly.”

Vi rolled her eyes, went back to the search bar, and typed:

“Knotting hardcore amateur homemade.”

Caitlyn gawked.

Mouth slightly open.

Then, horrified, “Are we supposed to watch real people having sex?”

Vi laughed, amused by how genuinely scandalized she looked. “What do you think we’ve been doing?”

Caitlyn huffed. “No, the earlier video was produced! It had actors! Homemade and amateur—doesn’t that mean these are just real people posting their own videos online?”

Vi smirked. “Yeah.”

Caitlyn looked absolutely appalled. “Well, what if we meet them on the street?”

Vi blinked.

Caitlyn continued, serious as hell, “Wouldn’t that be awkward? Just knowing we’ve seen them have sex?”

Vi stared.

Then dragged both hands down her face, internally screaming.

Vi sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Then, dead serious, she turned to Caitlyn.

“Baby. It’s porn.”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

Vi groaned. “Can’t we just watch something—anything—and see if we like it?”

Caitlyn sighed, long and suffering, then shrugged. “Fine. You pick. Since you’re the experienced one when it comes to porn.”

Vi groaned louder.

She refused to take that bait.

Instead, she scrolled through the front page of the site, eyes scanning thumbnails until she settled on a 30-minute video titled:

“Amateur Omega Wife’s Wild Ride.”

She glanced at Caitlyn, gauging her reaction.

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, took a slow sip of her beer, then flicked her hand at the screen. “Continue.”

Vi smirked, then pressed play.

The video started slow—the omega was fixing the bed, folding blankets and fluffing pillows while the alpha crept up behind her, obviously in the mood.

Vi was already bored.

She had to physically stop herself from skipping ahead, but Caitlyn was watching intently—like she was analyzing a political debate—so Vi just took another gulp of beer and let it play.

A few minutes passed. Flirting. Fake foreplay. A whole lot of exaggerated gasping.

Then—

The omega knelt down and started giving the alpha a blowjob.

Vi—being the self-aware pervert she was—perked up and actually started watching.

But before she could even appreciate the moment, the screen froze.

Caitlyn had paused the video.

Vi turned her head slowly, staring at her wife in pure betrayal.

Caitlyn stared right back. Completely calm.

Then, flatly, “Do you like that?”

Vi blinked. “Like what?”

Caitlyn pointed at the screen. “Oral sex.”

Vi opened her mouth. Then closed it.

Realization hit.

She was so stupid for thinking Caitlyn wasn’t dead serious about discussing every detail like a scientific case study.

Vi said nothing.

She was too busy having an existential crisis.

Caitlyn tapped her thigh, prompting. “Well?”

Vi inhaled deeply, then exhaled through her nose. Defeated.

“Yes,” she muttered. “I like it.”

Caitlyn nodded, made a thoughtful “hmmm,” then wrote it down in her notebook.

Vi just stared at the ceiling, regretting everything.

This was not the best decision of her life.

They kept watching.

The scene had moved past the blowjob—clothes were being ripped off, hands everywhere, mouths busy—and now the alpha was going down on the omega.

Caitlyn didn’t pause.

Probably because she already knew Vi liked doing that. They’d done it before, after all.

So they kept watching.

More moaning, more exaggerated sounds, more fake gasps of pleasure. The video rolled on, moving into missionary—which, okay, fine. They knew that one very well.

Vi didn’t feel anything.

If anything, she was starting to get really bored.

Until—

The omega climbed on top of the alpha, shifting into a cowgirl position.

Vi’s attention snapped back.

They’d never done that before.

She tilted her head, watching intently.

Was that something Caitlyn would even consider?

Without thinking, Vi reached for the remote, plucked it from Caitlyn’s hand, and paused the video.

Caitlyn turned to her, brows raised.

Vi kept her tone calm. “Would you be open to that position?”

Caitlyn looked back at the screen, expression unreadable. Studying the scene like it was a complex engineering blueprint.

Then, flatly, “Looks tiring to be on top.”

Vi snorted. “You never complain when I’m on top.”

Caitlyn turned her head, gave her a look. “Are we competing now?”

Vi rolled her eyes. “No, obviously not.”

Then she shrugged, leaning back on the couch. “But maybe we could try that next time.”

Caitlyn hummed, grabbed her notebook, and wrote it down.

Then, without looking up, “Sure. Next time. Maybe.”

Vi narrowed her eyes. “That doesn’t sound very sure.”

Caitlyn chuckled, took a sip of her beer, and finally looked at Vi again.

“If the opportunity arises,” she said smoothly, voice teasing. “Now, please continue.”

Vi exhaled, dragging a hand down her face.

This was the weirdest porn-watching experience of her life.

And yet—somehow—she still wasn’t hating it.

The longer the video played, the quieter they got.

Neither of them paused anymore. They just… kept watching.

Probably for very different reasons.

Caitlyn still looked like she was studying for an exam, focused, her brows occasionally furrowing as she jotted down whatever the hell she was writing in that damn notebook.

Vi, on the other hand?

She was just trying not to get caught.

Because Janna help her, she was getting very slightly turned on. Not from the video itself though, more like at the thought of maybe doing the same thing but with Caitlyn.

But of course, she had promised to keep her hands to herself, and she was gonna keep that promise, but that didn’t mean her body was cooperating.

The video moved through a ridiculous amount of positions—way too many, way too fast—and Vi had questions.

Like, seriously? How the hell were these two switching it up every two minutes like they were in some kind of porn Olympics? That wasn’t realistic at all.

And yet—Vi still found herself thinking about it.

After the cowgirl position, the omega moved to sitting on the alpha’s face and—okay.

Vi wouldn’t mind at all if Caitlyn ever wanted to do that.

If and when the opportunity arose, obviously.

But she kept her mouth shut and kept her eyes on the screen, making sure her hands stayed firmly on the damn couch.

Caitlyn, meanwhile, still wasn’t pausing.

She was still writing in that godforsaken notebook.

The omega switched to reverse cowgirl next, and Vi’s interest definitely piqued.

Because—yeah, it looked tiring, and if Caitlyn was hesitant about the regular cowgirl position, she’d probably be even more hesitant about this one.

It looked… more work.

But—hypothetically—Vi would have a better grip on her wife’s waist in that position, wouldn’t she? 

Vi took a long sip of her beer, forcing herself to think about literally anything else.

But then—finally—came the knotting.

Both of them instinctively drank their beers at the same time, like they were bracing for impact.

The alpha put the omega in a mating press—deep, close, possessive—and the moans, the groans, the over-the-top noises coming from the screen were… a lot.

Vi wasn’t sure if she was intrigued or horrified.

She glanced at Caitlyn just in time to see her wife pause the video, let out a long sigh, and take a bigger-than-normal gulp of beer.

Yep. She did not enjoy that.

Vi—who may have been slightly into it, but just slightly—raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Caitlyn shook her head. “I just… can’t believe that was an ‘amateur’ video.”

Vi blinked. “That’s what you were thinking this whole time?”

Caitlyn scoffed, swirling her beer. “It was obviously produced to look homemade, but it wasn’t. You can tell by the lighting, the camera angles, the—”

Vi burst out laughing. Full-body, head-thrown-back, dying kind of laughter.

Of all the things Caitlyn could’ve taken away from this… of course that’s what she fixated on.

When Vi finally stopped laughing long enough to catch her breath, she switched off the TV.

So. Their little research session didn’t exactly turn out the way she expected. Not that she really knew what to expect—except, maybe, something less painfully academic.

Still, that was fine.

What she was actually curious about now was what Caitlyn wrote in that notebook.

She turned to her wife, stretching her arm over the back of the couch, letting her fingers lightly tap against the cushion. “So?”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “So?”

Vi smirked. “Thoughts?”

Caitlyn considered, then gave a small shrug. “It was okay.”

Vi blinked. Just okay?

Caitlyn hummed, swirling the beer bottle in her hands. “Not exactly arousing in the way I thought it’d be, but educational, at least.”

Vi snorted, shaking her head. Of course Caitlyn treated this like a damn lecture.

Then Caitlyn shifted, leaning on her side, pressing her temple against the backrest so she could look directly at Vi.

And something about the way she settled in, the way her lips parted like she was weighing her words, made Vi’s stomach tighten.

Caitlyn wanted to ask something.

And Vi already knew she wasn’t gonna like it.

She sighed, bracing herself. “What is it?”

Caitlyn hesitated. Just for a second. Then—

“Promise you won’t get mad? Or annoyed?”

Vi’s stomach sank.

Yup. Absolutely not good.

But she still nodded. “I promise.”

Caitlyn studied her, like she was double-checking the truth in Vi’s words. Then, finally—

“Did you do any of those positions with Sarah?”

Vi closed her eyes.

Shit.

She exhaled, long and slow, before shifting to mirror Caitlyn’s position, arm draped along the couch, one hand rubbing absently at her jaw.

She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t even annoyed. She was just... tired.

“Cait… I know you don’t think much of it,” Vi said, voice softer than before. “The affair.”

Caitlyn didn’t react.

Vi looked at her, letting the silence hang between them. “But... can we stop bringing it up?”

Another pause. Then—Caitlyn nodded. “Okay.”

Vi exhaled, relieved—until Caitlyn kept going.

“Does it bother you when we talk about it? When I bring her up?” Caitlyn asked, voice quiet. “Do you feel guilty?”

Vi froze.

Her fingers curled against her thigh.

She took a second, licked her lips, then said, carefully, “I just want to move on.”

Caitlyn tilted her head, considering.

Then, just as slow—“Do you think you deserve to move on?”

And Vi paused.

Because for the first time in a long time, she didn’t know the answer.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn’s eyes flicked to Vi’s hands—gripping her beer bottle too tight, then shifting to her thigh, rubbing absentmindedly before squeezing down like she was trying to ground herself. She still hadn’t answered.

Maybe she wouldn’t.

Caitlyn hadn’t really expected her to, but she had asked anyway. She always did. Maybe it was a habit now, or maybe it was something else—something she hadn’t quite figured out yet.

Vi hated these conversations. She hated the way Caitlyn could bring up the affair like it was just another item on a checklist, something to be examined, dissected. It made Vi avoidant, defensive, irritated in a way that she didn’t even try to hide anymore. And Caitlyn… Caitlyn could stop.

She could leave it alone.

She could choose not to ask, could let the whole thing settle into the background where it belonged.

But she didn’t.

Because the affair wasn’t something that could just be erased. It wasn’t a smudge on glass that could be wiped clean. It would always be there, like a faded imprint—like something pressed too hard into paper, the indentation still lingering even after the ink was gone.

And the thing was—Caitlyn didn’t care .

Not in the way Vi probably thought she should. Not in the way people should care when their spouse cheats on them.

Because if she cared, if it had mattered , she wouldn’t even be thinking about it like this. She wouldn’t be poking at it, turning it over in her head, testing the weight of it. She would’ve buried it deep—so deep that it never saw the light of day again. That was how people handled things they actually couldn’t bear to face.

But that wasn’t how it was for her.

She had no instinct to avoid it. No urge to push it away, to pretend it didn’t happen. Because it had happened.

It was a fact.

And Caitlyn had always been the type to look facts in the eye.

Caitlyn watched her.

Watched Vi’s fingers tense around the beer bottle, watched the way her shoulders bunched, like she was bracing for a hit that wasn’t coming.

She wasn’t going to push. Not really. That wasn’t what this was.

But the silence stretched, thin and weighted, pressing down between them, and Vi was never good with silence. She cracked first, voice quiet, raw in a way Caitlyn wasn’t sure she’d meant to let slip—

“What do you want from me?”

Not sharp. Not defensive. Just… lost.

Vi let out a slow, rough breath, shaking her head slightly, like she hated every second of this. “I don’t even know what I deserve anymore. So, tell me. What do you think I should get?”

Caitlyn didn’t answer right away.

Because what was the point of rushing?

Then—softly, carefully—she smiled.

Not cruel. Not condescending. Just… something small. Something tired. “You deserve to be happy,” she murmured, watching the way Vi’s throat worked around a swallow, like the words hurt somehow. “You deserve the kind of love you’ve always wanted.”

Vi’s lips parted slightly, like she had something to say, but nothing came out.

Caitlyn reached out anyway, fingertips just barely brushing Vi’s cheek, light enough to feel the warmth of her skin, the tension sitting beneath it.

And then, quieter—so quiet it barely felt like a conversation anymore—

“All I want is for you to be honest.” A pause. The barest tilt of her head. “With yourself. With me.”

Vi swallowed hard.

Her jaw clenched, her hands flexing against the bottle, but she nodded—once, stiff, like she was committing to something before she could think too hard about it. “I am being honest.”

Caitlyn pulled back. Let her hand drop.

And then—

“Who ended it?”

Vi blinked, and Caitlyn saw it. That reaction. The hesitation. The flicker of something small but sharp that Vi wasn’t quick enough to hide.

Caitlyn didn’t move. Didn’t change her tone. “Between you and Sarah,” she clarified, studying Vi’s face, steady. “Who broke it off?”

Vi opened her mouth, then closed it again.

Something shifted—too fast to catch, but Caitlyn caught it anyway. The moment where thinking turned into regretting , turned into deciding how much of the truth to give away .

And then, barely above a breath—

“Sarah did.”

Caitlyn hummed, low in her throat.

She wasn’t surprised.

She wasn’t even sure she was disappointed .

Why would she even be disappointed?

She hadn’t expected anything from Vi. Not in the beginning. Not now. And yet—there was still something . A small tug, somewhere deep in her chest. It wasn’t sharp, wasn’t loud. Just a whisper. Insignificant, really. Except it lingered.

Caitlyn hummed softly, letting Vi’s answer settle between them, watching the way it weighed on her. Then—quietly, casually—

“And if she hadn’t?”

Vi blinked.

Caitlyn’s expression didn’t change. “If Sarah hadn’t ended it,” she clarified, voice as calm and even as before, “would you have?”

She saw the way Vi tensed. The flicker of hesitation, the way her breath hitched just slightly before she masked it with a slow inhale.

“I didn’t think this—” Vi gestured vaguely between them “—I didn’t think trying again would feel this… good. I didn’t think it was possible.”

Caitlyn barely reacted. Barely moved at all.

She only studied her. Unshaken. “That’s not what I asked.”

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, curling around them like smoke. Caitlyn didn’t mind it. She was comfortable in quiet. Vi, though—Vi was never good at it. Caitlyn could see it, the way Vi’s fingers twitched against her thigh, the way her jaw flexed, like she was grinding her teeth, like she was trying to pull the right answer from somewhere deep inside her.

And then, finally—

Vi exhaled, tilting her head slightly, looking at Caitlyn like she was tired of walking in circles. Like she knew she had nowhere left to go.

“No,” she said, voice lower this time, rough at the edges. “I wouldn’t have.”

Caitlyn didn’t flinch. Didn’t shift. Didn’t seem remotely surprised.

She only smiled again—slow, soft, something almost gentle. And yet—

“Then let’s be clear about what happened,” Caitlyn said, her voice clinical, detached in a way that almost made it seem like she wasn’t Vi’s wife at all. Maybe she wasn’t. Maybe, in this moment, she was just the one person in the world who could hold up a mirror and force Vi to look.

“If Sarah hadn’t ended it, you’d still be pushing for a divorce.” The words weren’t harsh. Weren’t cruel. Just factual. Just the truth . “It wasn’t your decision to try again. That choice was made for you.”

She watched Vi’s throat bob. Watched the way her grip tightened around her beer bottle, fingers twitching slightly like she wanted to argue. But she didn’t.

Caitlyn tilted her head slightly. Studied her for just a second longer. And then—

“And now that you see this working,” she continued, voice even, unshaken, “now that you like what’s happening between us, you suddenly want to forget the very thing that forced us here in the first place?”

Vi’s mouth opened slightly—maybe to argue, maybe to defend herself.

But Caitlyn only lifted an eyebrow, just the faintest ghost of a smile playing at her lips. The kind of smile that pained both the person wearing it and the person looking at it.

“Isn’t that a little hypocritical?”

Vi didn’t answer.

And Caitlyn just watched her. Not pressing. Not demanding. Just waiting .

Vi exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her hair, tension coiled tight in her shoulders. “I just don’t get why we have to keep talking about it,” she muttered, frustration bleeding into every inch of her posture. “Why can’t we just let it go? Move on with our lives?”

Caitlyn’s fingers tapped lightly against the closed notebook on her lap, gaze flicking down for half a second before lifting again. When she spoke, her voice was soft—measured in that way that made it impossible to tell if she was calm or if she simply didn’t care enough to fight.

“You’re not asking me to let it go for our marriage’s sake.” A quiet statement. Certain. “Not even for me.” Her fingers stilled, and she met Vi’s eyes, steady and unshaken . “You want to move on because it makes you uncomfortable. Because you don’t want to sit with what you did. You’d rather bury it. Pretend it never happened.”

Vi turned to her sharply, jaw tight, annoyance flashing across her face. “You know why I had the affair.”

Caitlyn nodded. “I do.” No hesitation. No shift in tone. Just fact. “You had the affair because I wasn’t treating you like a real spouse. I wasn’t making you feel loved. I wasn’t fulfilling your physical needs.” A pause. Then she tilted her head slightly, studying Vi’s expression. “Did I miss anything?”

Vi scoffed, shifting in her seat. “I know the affair was bad, but our marriage wasn’t getting any better.”

Caitlyn hummed softly, watching her closely. “Then what changed?”

Vi didn’t answer.

Caitlyn leaned back slightly, waiting. And when Vi stayed silent, Caitlyn filled in the gap for her.

“What changed,” she continued smoothly, “is that we finally talked about it. We finally sat down and discussed our expectations, our needs, our wants. And objectively,” she paused, glancing at her fingers before looking back at Vi, “if we’d had that conversation sooner, maybe the affair wouldn’t have happened at all.”

Vi let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. “So it’s my fault again,” she said, voice edged with bitterness. “Because I didn’t say what I wanted, what I needed from you—because I didn’t spell it out when you could already see it . You knew what I wanted.” Her voice dropped slightly, something tight in the back of her throat. “You just didn’t care enough to give it to me.”

Caitlyn didn’t move, didn’t react—not visibly, at least. She stayed perfectly still. And she knew that stillness drove Vi crazy. It always did. No reaction meant no foothold, no direction to push, no fight to latch onto.

Caitlyn stretched against the couch, languid, unconcerned, like this conversation wasn’t sharp enough to cut. “You keep acting like I broke some promise to you.”

Vi’s fingers curled into her palm, knuckles pressing white.

Caitlyn tilted her head, watching her carefully, studying the tension in Vi’s shoulders, the way her lips pressed into a hard line, like she was holding back words she hadn’t figured out yet. So Caitlyn pushed, just a little.

“When did I ever promise to love you?” she asked, voice soft but steady. “When did I ever tell you this marriage was supposed to be anything more than what it was?”

Vi’s shoulders went rigid. Still, she didn’t speak.

“You wanted something from me,” Caitlyn continued, voice quiet, unhurried , letting the words settle before she took another sip of her beer. “Something I never agreed to give. And when I didn’t magically become the wife you wanted, you ran to someone else instead.” She exhaled through her nose, then let her eyes flick back to Vi’s, unshaken . “That was your decision. Your mistake.”

Caitlyn caught it—the way Vi flinched, just slightly, the smallest shift of her fingers tightening against her palm.

She let the moment stretch, let it linger , before adding—calm, unbothered—

“And you don’t get to pin the blame on me.”

Caitlyn took another slow drink, the burn sliding down smooth, easing the sharp edges of the conversation but doing nothing to soften the weight between them. “And now,” she said, voice as steady as ever, “now you want to forget about the affair because, finally, you’re getting what you wanted from me all along.”

She set the bottle down on the coffee table, rolling it once between her fingers before looking at Vi again, gaze level, unreadable. “Pretending it never happened is the easiest option, isn’t it?”

Vi’s breath hitched, barely, but Caitlyn caught it. She caught everything—the way Vi’s throat bobbed like she was swallowing back words, the way her fingers curled in just a little tighter, like she was bracing for something she wasn’t sure was coming. But Caitlyn didn’t stop.

“You don’t want to talk about it,” she murmured, watching Vi’s face carefully, tracing every reaction, every small crack in the mask. “Because it ruins the fantasy of the perfect marriage you’ve always wanted.”

Then Caitlyn paused. Not for effect, not for drama, just long enough to take one last drink from her beer before setting the bottle on the floor beside the couch. She stood, stretching slightly, like the conversation hadn’t worn on her at all, like it wasn’t sitting heavy in her bones. “I’m going to bed.”

She didn’t wait for a response. Didn’t need one. And it wasn’t because she didn’t care—it was because she knew Vi wouldn’t have an answer, not yet. Maybe not ever. And Caitlyn wasn’t going to wait for her to figure it out.

She had made it halfway across the room when Vi spoke, voice rough, like the words had to be forced out.

“What do you want from me?” Vi asked, the frustration gone now, replaced with something else—something quiet, something Caitlyn couldn’t quite name. “So I know what I have to do to fix this.”

Caitlyn stopped but didn’t turn around. She let out a slow exhale, then, finally, glanced back over her shoulder.

“I already told you,” she said simply. “I just need honesty. That’s all.”

And with that, she kept walking, stepping onto the stairs without another glance, leaving Vi behind in the dim glow of the living room.

Vi sat at her desk, hands resting on a stack of weapons dossiers she should have been reviewing, but the words on the pages blurred together, useless. Her mind wasn’t here—it was caught in a loop, trapped in Caitlyn’s voice, the quiet, even way she’d laid everything out earlier, not accusing, not angry, just… stating facts. And that was worse. Vi could argue with anger, could fight back when someone was shouting, but this? This was just Caitlyn holding up a mirror, forcing Vi to look at herself, at all the ways she’d justified things that maybe, just maybe, weren’t justifiable at all.

She sighed, leaning back in her chair, rubbing a hand down her face. It was almost 3 a.m. She should be in bed, but the thought of lying next to Caitlyn, of feeling that warmth just inches away and knowing she shouldn’t reach for it—not after everything that was said—felt heavier than the exhaustion weighing down her body. She stared at the papers again, pretending she could focus, pretending work would drown out the question Caitlyn had asked her. Do you think you deserve to move on?

Vi didn’t have an answer.

She wanted to. She wanted to say something that would make it make sense, something that would prove they were past this, that they were doing better now, so why did it even matter anymore? But Caitlyn had cut through that too, told her straight up that this wasn’t about their marriage, not really. It was about Vi. Vi wanting to bury it, push it so far down that maybe she wouldn’t have to sit with the fact that she had done something wrong, that she had broken something—even if Caitlyn claimed there was nothing to break in the first place.

And fuck, Caitlyn wasn’t wrong.

Vi closed her eyes, exhaling slowly, fingers tightening around the edge of the desk. The silence of the office felt suffocating, the weight of her own thoughts pressing against her ribs. She thought they were moving forward. Thought they were finally figuring things out. But maybe—maybe she just wanted to skip the part where she had to sit in the wreckage and actually look at what she’d done.

And maybe Caitlyn wasn’t going to let her.

Vi sat there in the living room earlier, gripping her beer bottle like it could anchor her, like it could keep her from feeling the way Caitlyn was looking at her—steady, unreadable, like she had already put the pieces together but was waiting for Vi to admit it out loud. Caitlyn’s legs were still crossed, her notebook balanced neatly on her lap, but her eyes were the only thing Vi could focus on, sharp and cutting, pinning her in place before she even realized she was trapped.

Then Caitlyn spoke. Soft. Too soft.

“Who ended it?”

Vi blinked.

Caitlyn’s hand slipped from Vi’s face, falling away like an afterthought. “Between you and Sarah,” she clarified, like she was making sure Vi understood there was no room to dodge the question. “Who broke it off?”

Something in Vi’s chest tightened. She hadn’t been expecting that—not now, not when the conversation had already circled around the affair so many times she thought Caitlyn would finally let it rest. But here it was again, dredged up like it had been sitting between them this whole time, waiting for the right moment to be unburied.

She hesitated. Just for a second. Barely a pause, barely a flicker, but Caitlyn caught it. Of course she did.

Vi exhaled sharply. “Sarah did.”

Caitlyn hummed at that, a small, knowing sound, like she was turning over a piece of information she already suspected but wanted confirmed. Then, without breaking eye contact, she tilted her head slightly.

“And if she hadn’t?”

Vi stared.

Caitlyn didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. “If Sarah didn’t end it,” she said smoothly, evenly, like she was reading off a script Vi didn’t have access to, “would you have?”

Vi felt something crack in her composure, small but noticeable, like a loose thread she suddenly couldn’t stop pulling at. She swallowed, forcing herself to hold Caitlyn’s gaze, but her fingers tightened around the neck of the bottle, a tension she couldn’t shake.

“I didn’t think this,” Vi gestured vaguely between them, between the space where Caitlyn sat, impossibly calm, while Vi felt like she was on trial, “I didn’t think trying again would feel this… good. I didn’t think it was possible.”

Caitlyn barely moved. Didn’t even react. Just studied Vi the way she studied council reports, assessing, calculating, waiting to see if there was anything else worth dissecting. Then, slowly, she shook her head.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Vi’s jaw tensed. She took a breath, but it didn’t settle her.

Caitlyn waited.

And Vi—Vi couldn’t lie. Not after everything. Not after agreeing that honesty was the one thing they owed each other now.

So she forced it out, barely above a whisper. “No. I wouldn’t have.”

The air between them didn’t shift. Didn’t crack. Didn’t do anything except sit heavy on Vi’s chest, pressing down like the weight of the admission itself.

And Caitlyn—Caitlyn just smiled. That same calm, clinical smile that made Vi’s stomach drop, because it wasn’t cruel, wasn’t angry, wasn’t anything Vi had been expecting. It was worse.

“Then let’s be clear about what happened,” Caitlyn said, voice level, detached in a way that made Vi’s fingers twitch. “If Sarah hadn’t ended it, you’d still be pushing for a divorce.” She let that settle for a beat before continuing. “It wasn’t your decision to try again. That choice was made for you. And now that you see this working, now that you like what’s happening between us, you suddenly want to forget the very thing that forced us here in the first place?”

Vi opened her mouth—maybe to argue, maybe to defend herself, maybe just to say something that would make this feel less like standing in front of a loaded gun.

But Caitlyn only lifted an eyebrow, and there was something almost amused there, the faintest ghost of a smirk.

“Isn’t that a little hypocritical?”

Vi groaned into her hands, dragging them down her face, fingers pressing into her eyes like that could somehow scrub away the weight sitting on her chest. But it didn’t help. Nothing did. Because no matter how much she wanted to move past it, Caitlyn’s voice was still in her head, even now, like a damn echo she couldn’t shake.

She thought—stupidly—that if she could just explain, if she could lay everything out, point at all the cracks that had been in their marriage long before she ever touched Sarah, then maybe Caitlyn would… what? Understand?

No. That wasn’t the right word. Caitlyn already understood. She just didn’t let Vi off the hook for it.

Vi exhaled hard, frustration twisting through her ribs, tight enough to hurt. “I just don’t get why we have to keep talking about it,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair, nails scratching against her scalp. “Why can’t we just let it go? Move on with our lives?”

Caitlyn didn’t answer right away. Her eyes flicked down, fingers drumming lightly against the cover of that damn notebook. The pause stretched long enough that Vi almost regretted speaking—almost wished she could take it back and sit in silence instead.

And then, finally, Caitlyn said, “You’re not asking me to let it go for the sake of our marriage.” Soft. Too soft. No anger, no real bite. Just something worse—something measured. Detached, almost. “Not even for me.”

Vi swallowed.

Caitlyn shut the notebook with a quiet snap, lifting her gaze, pinning Vi in place with nothing but calm, impossible-to-read eyes. “You want to move on because it makes you uncomfortable. Because you don’t want to deal with what you did. So you’d rather bury it. Pretend it never happened.”

Vi clenched her jaw. Something hot crawled up her spine—annoyance, guilt, she wasn’t sure. Maybe both. “You know why I had the affair.”

Caitlyn nodded, slow and steady, like she wasn’t surprised. Like she’d been expecting Vi to say that. “I do.”

That was it. Just I do.

Vi hated that. Hated how it didn’t sound like a defense, or an attack, or anything she could push back against. It was just a fact. Just an awful, simple fact that made her feel small.

“You had the affair because I wasn’t treating you like a real spouse,” Caitlyn continued, voice still frustratingly calm. “I wasn’t making you feel loved. I wasn’t fulfilling your physical needs.” A tiny pause. Barely anything, just a flicker, a breath. Then, quietly, “Did I miss anything?”

Vi scoffed, shifting in her seat, something restless and burning under her skin. “I know the affair was bad, but our marriage wasn’t getting any better.”

Caitlyn didn’t look away. Didn’t blink. Didn’t even sigh.

She just watched her.

Just remembering the whole thing made Vi wince, her stomach twisting the way it always did when she thought too much about things she couldn’t change. Caitlyn hadn’t even been cruel about it—that was the worst part. She hadn’t raised her voice, hadn’t thrown accusations like knives. She’d just been… honest. Blunt in that way Vi needed her to be, stripping everything down to the bare, ugly truth. And Vi had sat there, forced to choke it down, bitter and heavy, like something lodged in her throat.

The words kept replaying in her head.

Caitlyn had asked what changed. Why now? Why were they suddenly better—talking, laughing, making love?

Vi hadn’t answered. She’d sat there, jaw locked, like the silence might protect her.

So Caitlyn had filled in the blanks for her. The only thing that changed was that they finally discussed their marriage like adults. Talked about their wants, their needs, their expectations. And maybe—just maybe—if they had done it sooner, they could have saved themselves a whole lot of pain. Maybe the affair never would have happened.

Vi hadn’t taken that well.

She’d let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head, the sound scraped raw. “So it’s my fault again,” she said, voice edged with something bitter, something sharp. “Because I didn’t say what I wanted, what I needed from you—because I didn’t spell it out when you could already see it. You knew what I wanted.” Her throat felt tight, like the words had to fight their way out. “You just didn’t care enough to give it to me.”

Caitlyn didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just watched her with that impossible stillness, that quiet patience Vi had always found infuriating.

Then, slowly, she leaned back into the couch, stretching out like she had all the time in the world. Like this conversation wasn’t sharp enough to cut.

“You keep acting like I broke some promise to you,” she said simply.

Vi’s jaw clenched. She stayed quiet, but her fingers twitched against her knee, curling and uncurling, like she wanted to grip something.

Caitlyn tilted her head, studying her, reading every small reaction, every sign of unspoken words trapped behind clenched teeth. And then, softly, she pushed.

“When did I ever promise to love you?”

Vi’s stomach dropped.

Caitlyn’s voice wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t even cold. It was just a fact, one Vi couldn’t argue with.

“When did I ever tell you this marriage was supposed to be anything more than what it was?”

Vi swallowed. Her shoulders went rigid.

“You wanted something from me,” Caitlyn continued, slow, measured. “Something I never agreed to give. And when I didn’t magically become the wife you wanted, you ran to someone else instead.”

She exhaled through her nose, barely a pause before her eyes flicked back to Vi’s—steady, unshaken. “That was your decision. Your mistake.”

Vi flinched. Just a little. Just enough that Caitlyn caught the way her fingers clenched tighter, the way her shoulders edged up like she was bracing for something.

Caitlyn let it sit between them for a second, then—softer, quieter, almost like an afterthought—she added:

“And you don’t get to pin the blame on me.”

Vi was sinking, her thoughts folding in on themselves, looping back to the same damn thing over and over until she wasn’t even sure what she was arguing anymore—was she just defending herself for the sake of it, or was she really convinced she deserved to move on?

The door creaked open. Soft footsteps against the floor.

Vi didn’t look up right away, but she knew.

Caitlyn.

Standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but a nightgown that clung to her body in a way that felt intentional —or maybe that was just Vi’s brain making it into something it wasn’t. Her hair was a mess, her eyes still red at the corners, her voice rough when she spoke. “It’s past three. Are you coming to bed?”

Vi exhaled through her nose, staring blankly at the document she’d been pretending to read for the past hour. Then, finally, she set it down and looked at her wife.

Caitlyn moved closer, stopping beside Vi’s chair, close enough that Vi could feel the warmth of her. A hand reached out, fingers sliding through Vi’s hair, slow, steady.

“You’re still brooding,” Caitlyn murmured. Not a question. A fact.

Vi tried to smile. It didn’t land the way she wanted it to—probably looked more like a wince.

She turned in her chair, fully facing Caitlyn now, tilting her head up to meet her gaze. And before she could second-guess it, the question was out. “Do you hate me?”

Caitlyn stilled, her fingers still half-buried in Vi’s hair.

“Hate’s too heavy a word,” she said after a beat, voice even. “I don’t hate you. I understand why you did what you did. But that doesn’t mean I agree with it.”

Vi swallowed, her throat tight. She didn’t know why she did it—why she moved, why she leaned forward and let her forehead rest against Caitlyn’s stomach, arms slipping around her waist like she needed something to hold onto. “Can I just stay like this for a bit?” Her voice was quieter than she meant it to be.

Caitlyn didn’t answer right away, but her fingers moved again, dragging through Vi’s hair, nails scraping lightly against her scalp. A slow, absentminded motion. Something almost comforting.

And in the silence, Vi could still hear it. Still feel it.

Caitlyn’s voice from earlier, the way it cut through her, clean and effortless.

“Now you want to forget about the affair because, finally, you’re getting what you wanted from me all along.”

The words had landed hard, sharp. Vi had barely been able to breathe around them.

“Pretending it never happened is the easiest option, isn’t it?”

Her breath had hitched then. Just slightly. Just enough for Caitlyn to catch it. And Caitlyn hadn’t stopped.

“You don’t want to talk about it,” she’d said, voice steady, picking apart every reaction, “because it ruins the fantasy of the perfect marriage you’ve always wanted.”

Her hands curled against Caitlyn’s waist, gripping a little tighter, like that might keep her grounded. But the thought clawed at her anyway, an ugly thing she couldn’t ignore—what if this was all just an illusion? What if everything they were building was just another fragile piece waiting to break?

Her voice came out quieter than she meant, rough and uncertain. “This marriage... everything about it, everything between us… it’s either fragile or damaged.” She hesitated, then let out a breath, her grip tightening just slightly. “And if you ask me if I deserve to move on… I don’t think I do.”

Caitlyn didn’t speak, didn’t try to argue, just let her fingers run slow circles against the nape of Vi’s neck, waiting.

Vi swallowed hard, then stood, pulling Caitlyn closer, burying her face in the curve of her neck, her breath unsteady. Her arms wrapped around Caitlyn’s waist, holding her like she was the only steady thing left in Vi’s world.

“I messed up,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Badly. And I don’t know how to fix something we never even had.” She let out a shaky breath against Caitlyn’s skin, fingers flexing at the small of her back. “But even if you say it didn’t hurt you, even if you say it doesn’t matter, I still feel like I broke something. And I feel guilty. Every damn day.”

For a moment, Caitlyn didn’t move. Then, slowly, hesitantly, her arms came up—wrapping loosely around Vi’s neck, her hold light, uncertain. She didn’t press Vi for space, didn’t stiffen. Just let her be there, let her stay close.

Then, after a long pause, Caitlyn’s voice—quiet, thoughtful—broke through the silence.

“You can’t break something that never had the chance to exist.”

Vi inhaled sharply, her breath warm against Caitlyn’s skin. The words shouldn’t have settled the way they did, shouldn’t have made something shift inside her—but they did.

She swallowed, holding Caitlyn closer, like the shape of her body might keep Vi from unraveling completely. Then, against the soft skin of her throat, she whispered, raw and quiet:

“Still, let me try to fix it, Cait… until it finally exists. And when it does, I promise, I swear, I wouldn’t break it again… please.”

Chapter Text

A few days had passed since the argument. Neither of them had brought it up again, and maybe that was for the best.

They had just… kept going.

Vi still made Caitlyn breakfast, though Caitlyn still hadn’t figured out how to wake up early without an alarm. Every night, she forgot to set one, and Vi never reminds her before bed either. She figured Caitlyn was a grown woman—if she wanted to wake up early, she’d make it happen. So, instead of breakfasts together, their breakfasts happened over video call, Caitlyn sitting in their kitchen, half-awake, hair a mess, wearing a robe over her nightgown, while Vi was already at work, coffee in one hand, phone propped up against a pile of documents.

It was easy most days. Light conversation, nothing too deep, nothing too close to the nerve. Sometimes the flow of words was a little stiff, a little too polished—Caitlyn had a way of responding like she was still sitting in a council meeting, like everything had to be thought through before she spoke. But there was flirting too. There was playful teasing, lazy smiles, the occasional smirk from Caitlyn when she said something that landed just right. And Vi was pretty sure— pretty damn sure —that Caitlyn didn’t even realize when she was flirting back.

But today was Saturday.

And Vi wasn’t looking forward to today.

She exhaled through her nose, slow and steady, before sitting up in bed. Caitlyn’s side was still warm, her body curled toward the pillows, face half-hidden by the blankets. She was still dead asleep.

She had never been the type to wake Caitlyn up, and she wasn’t about to start now. Instead, she slid out of bed, moving quietly through the room before heading to the kitchen.

Weekends were their weirdest routine. Caitlyn always either slept until noon or surfaced when the cleaners arrived, throwing on a robe and going straight into efficiency mode—directing them on what to do, what products to use, sorting laundry, putting away fresh-pressed clothes with that absurd level of neatness that made Vi feel like she was the most unorganized person to walk Runeterra. At first, Vi thought it was some weird need for control, but the more she paid attention, the more she realized it was just… Caitlyn. The way she was wired. The way she kept her world from feeling too messy, too chaotic.

Vi didn’t mind it. If anything, she found herself kind of impressed by it. Their house was always spotless, her clothes always folded the same way, her closet arranged with eerie consistency. A place for everything and everything in its place.

But none of that was her concern this morning. 

Because today, they had to go to the Kiramman Mansion.

And no matter how well things were going between them lately, Vi was positive that Caitlyn’s parents weren’t inviting them over just to have a nice family dinner.

No, this was about the tabloids.

This was about the rumors.

This was about them.

Yeah. Today was gonna suck.

Vi shoved the thought of visiting Caitlyn’s parents into the furthest corner of her mind and focused on something that actually mattered—coffee.

Weekends were the only time she could actually enjoy the process, brewing it the way it was meant to be brewed instead of slamming an espresso pod into the machine and calling it a day. Slow-drip was better. Smoother, richer, the kind of coffee that made her feel like a real person instead of just a body running on caffeine fumes. It was perfect for when she spent hours holed up in her upstairs office, either working out or pretending to work while doing absolutely nothing.

Well, usually. Until Caitlyn inevitably sent a cleaner into the office and Vi had to evacuate before they started dusting around her.

That was the thing about Saturdays. No matter where Vi planted herself, she was always in Caitlyn’s way. If she hid in their bedroom? Sheets— changed. If she stretched out on the couch? Rugs— vacuumed. The woman was relentless when it came to keeping the house spotless, and Vi had long accepted her fate of either dodging the cleaners or giving up and moving out of the way.

Maybe today, she’d just go outside. Caitlyn rarely sent anyone to clean the back porch unless it had rained, and as far as Vi could tell, the weather had been fine.

Yeah. That’s the plan.

She nodded to herself and went to check the fridge, pulling things around in search of something easy to throw together for breakfast. She was busy sifting through leftovers when Caitlyn’s voice cut through the quiet.

"Why didn’t you wake me up?"

Vi jumped, barely managing to keep from smacking her head on the fridge shelf. "Shit, Cait," she muttered, turning with a scowl already forming—because really , who just appears out of nowhere like that? She was ready to fire off something snarky, something about how it wasn’t her job to disturb Caitlyn’s precious beauty sleep—

But then she actually looked at her wife.

And Vi’s brain short-circuited.

Caitlyn was barefoot, standing there with her hair still a mess, eyes barely open, the picture of someone who was definitely not fully awake yet. And she was wearing— Janna help Vi —one of those short nightgowns. The ones that didn’t cover much to begin with, and with the way the fabric clung, the way there was clearly no bra underneath—

Vi forced herself to stop looking.

She was pretty sure she failed.

Her mouth opened, and—of all the things she could’ve said, all the teasing remarks or casual comebacks—what actually came out was:

“…Good morning.”

Caitlyn hummed in response, leaning lazily against the kitchen island. “Morning,” she mumbled, rubbing at her eye before tilting her head slightly. “What’re you making?”

Vi blinked, still mentally buffering.

Right. Breakfast.

That was definitely what they were supposed to be talking about right now.

Vi turned back to the fridge, gripping the edge of the door a little tighter than necessary. Focus. Breakfast. She was supposed to be thinking about breakfast , not about lifting Caitlyn onto the kitchen island and eating her out for breakfast.

She cleared her throat, scanning the fridge for anything that didn’t require too much effort. “Haven’t decided yet,” she muttered, shifting things around. Then, just to ground herself, she tossed a question over her shoulder. “Why’re you up so early?”

Caitlyn, now lazily pouring herself coffee, let out a sigh. “My body thought it was a weekday,” she said, voice still heavy with sleep. “Then I saw you were still here and realized it’s Saturday.”

Vi chuckled, pulling out a carton of eggs. “Or maybe it’s not Saturday, and I just woke up late.”

Caitlyn snorted. “You don’t wake up late.”

Vi bit back a smirk. I did once this week. The morning after they had sex for the first time in over a year, when she’d slept so hard she almost missed work. But Caitlyn either didn’t remember or wasn’t mentioning it, so Vi let it slide.

She heard Caitlyn move, the soft clink of a coffee mug against the counter, the quiet hum of her taking that first sip. “I told the cleaners to come early today,” Caitlyn murmured. “Since we have to leave for the mansion.”

Vi turned her head slightly, still crouched in front of the fridge. “Why not just skip this week?” she asked, fishing out a dubious looking box of takeout then putting it back in. “We can do it next weekend.”

The look Caitlyn gave her was the kind of look reserved for someone who had just committed an unspeakable crime like murder.

Vi blinked. “What?”

Caitlyn exhaled through her nose, already looking exhausted. “The sheets need to be changed, the clothes need to be washed, your suits have to be pressed, the house is dusty, and the bathrooms need to be scrubbed.”

Vi raised her hands in surrender. “Alright, alright,” she said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “The house is filthy, disgusting, unlivable —how dare we exist in such squalor.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, taking another sip of coffee like she was choosing to ignore Vi’s nonsense.

Vi smirked, then closed the fridge and stood up, and leaned against it. “You know, once we have pups, they’re gonna wreck everything anyway.”

Caitlyn groaned, rubbing her temple like she already had a headache. “I am not mentally prepared for that level of destruction.”

Vi snorted, shaking her head as she yanked the fridge open again. “Yeah, well,” she muttered, “guess you better enjoy the cleanliness while it lasts.”

Caitlyn hummed into her coffee, not even bothering to reply.

Vi stared blankly at the shelves, scanning for something that didn’t require actual effort. After a second, she sighed and shut the door. “Screw it. I’ll just order food.”

That got Caitlyn’s attention. Her eyebrows pulled together as she turned, eyeing Vi like she’d just sprouted not one but two new heads on her shoulder. “Why? There’s so much leftover food in the fridge.”

Before Vi could protest, Caitlyn was already pulling out container after container, setting them on the counter like evidence in a case. Vi groaned, defeated, and started popping lids open, inspecting each one.

She poked at a questionable-looking dish with a fork. “You sure this is still edible?”

Caitlyn barely spared her a glance. “If it’s not, throw it out.”

Vi sighed and gave in. “Fine, I’ll reheat the leftovers.” Then she noticed Caitlyn taking more things out of the fridge, rearranging containers, wiping down shelves. She raised an eyebrow. “What, we cleaning out the fridge now too?”

Caitlyn nodded like it was obvious. “The house needs a reset.”

Vi rolled her eyes. “The house gets a reset every week.”

Caitlyn finally turned to her then, giving her that look—head tilted slightly, one brow raised, that quiet air of authority she always had when she was about to end an argument before it even started. “Are you complaining?” she asked, tone sweet, but eyes sharp. “Because if you are, you’re more than welcome to go live in your condo downtown and be a slob there.”

Vi narrowed her eyes, fork frozen midair. “Wow. Kicking me out of my own house?”

Caitlyn arched an eyebrow.

Vi exhaled through her nose. “Obviously not complaining,” she muttered, grabbing a pan and resigning herself to reheating last week’s definitely questionable takeout.

The cleaners showed up at exactly nine, and like clockwork, Caitlyn switched into full command mode, rattling off instructions like she was leading a military operation. Scrub that. Change this. Dust those. Vi took one look at the scene and promptly removed herself from the equation.

She retreated to the back porch, dropping into one of the chairs, stretching her legs out, and letting her head tip back. The sun was warm on her face, the breeze light, but her mind kept drifting—first to the vacant lot behind their house, then to the idea of maybe fixing it up. It had space. Enough for a garden, maybe some grass, something that didn’t look so… dead. Caitlyn grew up with sprawling, perfectly manicured gardens, and Vi? She barely saw green growing up. Zaun wasn’t exactly great for plant life.

Maybe she should try. Get her hands in the dirt, make something grow for once instead of letting everything rot.

She was still mulling it over when Caitlyn stepped onto the porch, and Vi barely glanced up before groaning. “I already left so I wouldn’t be in the cleaners’ way, and now I’m getting kicked out of here too?”

Caitlyn just stared at her. “I came out to tell you to get ready to leave for the mansion.”

Vi exhaled sharply, rolling her head back against the chair. Right. That.

Caitlyn stepped closer, crossing her arms. “When we get there, my parents are probably going to bring up the rumors.” She said it easily, like she wasn’t gearing up for an interrogation. “We need to decide now how we’re handling it.”

Vi tilted her head, smirking. “I thought you wanted me to be honest.”

Caitlyn smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “I do. I’m not asking you to lie. They’ll find out the truth eventually.” Then, after a small pause, “I just want to strategize how we tell them.”

Vi groaned again, slumping further into her chair. “What are the chances they already know ?”

Caitlyn didn’t hesitate. “Seventy, maybe eighty percent.”

Vi groaned even louder, running both hands through her hair. “What if I fake a work emergency?”

That earned a small chuckle from Caitlyn. “Sure. Go ahead and tell my mother you can’t make it to lunch because dangerous weapons need you more.”

Vi turned her head, smirking. “Could work.”

Caitlyn just gave her a long, unimpressed look.

Vi sighed. “Fine. I’ll get ready.”

Caitlyn nodded, turning back toward the house while Vi stayed in her chair, staring at the empty yard.

Maybe a garden wasn’t a bad idea.

They left the house way later than planned. Not that Vi was complaining—Caitlyn refused to step out the door until she was sure every inch of the house was spotless, and honestly? Vi wasn’t exactly rushing to get to the mansion either.

She had no desire to sit across from Caitlyn’s parents while they took turns ripping her to shreds for cheating on their daughter. Lady Kiramman was terrifying enough under normal circumstances. Vi didn’t need to see what she was like angry.

She exhaled heavily as she drove, gripping the wheel a little tighter than necessary. She must’ve sighed louder than she thought, because Caitlyn turned to her, watching for a second before asking, “Are you nervous?”

Vi let out a breathy chuckle. “You’re not?”

Caitlyn just shrugged. “Already got an earful from my mother last week,” she said, voice quiet, like she wasn’t particularly bothered by it. “Not much else she can say to me at this point.”

Vi glanced at her briefly before turning back to the road. Caitlyn was leaning against the window, her fingers lightly curled under her chin, eyes distant—like she was lost in thought, drifting somewhere Vi couldn’t follow.

Vi hesitated, then asked, “What’d you tell her?”

Caitlyn gave a small shrug, not looking away from the window. “Nothing much.” A pause. “Tried to deflect where I could, but… she was talking too much for me to even get a word in.”

Vi’s grip on the wheel tightened slightly. “And what was she saying?”

Caitlyn sighed, finally turning her head to look at Vi. For a moment, it seemed like she was debating whether or not to answer—but then, in that same even, detached voice, she said, “She told me she was disappointed.” A slow inhale. “That I should’ve had more control over the situation. That I should’ve been more aware— managed things better before they got out of hand.”

Vi stole another glance at Caitlyn, watching the way she leaned back against the seat, closing her eyes like she was exhausted by the thought alone.

Then, so quiet it almost wasn’t meant to be heard—

“Maybe she was right.”

Vi didn’t say much after that. Not much to say, really.

She already felt the weight of what she’d done—felt it in the way Caitlyn spoke to her, in the way her own thoughts twisted in on themselves whenever she tried to justify any of it. Their families were too well-known, too deeply ingrained in Piltover and Zaun’s politics, for something like this to stay quiet forever. If her mistakes ever came out, it wouldn’t just be her reputation on the line. It would be Caitlyn’s. Her parents’. Both their names would be dragged through the mud.

It was stupid, what she did. And a part of her regretted it—really regretted it. But at the same time… a part of her also felt like it was inevitable. Something in their marriage had always been bound to break. Maybe not like this, maybe not as messy, but still—something was going to give. The cracks had been there from the start.

But now? Now they had a shot.

A chance to actually try, to make this marriage into something real instead of just another political arrangement that benefited everyone but them. And Vi wanted that.

Badly.

She exhaled, watching as the familiar streets of Caitlyn’s childhood blurred past the window. Almost there. Just a few more turns, a few more minutes of quiet before they’d have to step into the lion’s den.

Then, Caitlyn spoke. Softly. Carefully. “Can I ask you something?”

Vi sighed, glancing at her, already bracing for whatever came next. Whenever Caitlyn phrased it like that, the follow-up was never good. But Vi still smiled, because what else could she do? “Go for it.”

Caitlyn studied her for a second—then, without breaking eye contact, asked, “How many pups do you want?”

Vi almost slammed the brakes. Almost.

Her hands tensed around the wheel, grip tightening as the question sunk in. “You—” she huffed out a laugh, caught completely off guard. “You offering me a whole basketball team or something?”

Caitlyn snorted, shaking her head. “The max I would give you is two.”

Vi laughed, shaking her head as she turned onto the final stretch leading up to the mansion. “Then why ask what I want if you already decided on two?”

Caitlyn just leaned back in her seat, turning her head to look at Vi. Watching her.

Then, lazily, her hand reached over, fingers finding Vi’s hair, twisting the strands between her fingers. Soft. Thoughtful. “Just wanted to make sure,” she murmured. “In case you wanted more.”

Vi smiled. Real. Small. But there.

“No,” she said, voice lighter than before. “Two’s fine.”

Vi was halfway through the turn into the Kiramman estate when Caitlyn’s voice cut through the silence again.

“My heat’s coming up,” she said, casual—too casual. “Probably in the next two weeks.” A pause. Then, just as easily, “Thought you’d want to know.”

Vi smirked, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel. “You telling me so I can mark my calendar, or…” she glanced at Caitlyn, teasing, “we getting in some pre-game before then?”

Caitlyn chuckled, low and amused. “Sure. As long as you’re okay having sex in my parents’ house.”

Vi groaned as she pulled up to the front steps, barely putting the car in park before she shot Caitlyn an exasperated look. “We’re staying the night?”

Caitlyn hummed, stretching in her seat, like she wasn’t about to ruin Vi’s entire day. “You really think they’d let us leave? They’ll insist on breakfast together. Maybe lunch if you’re really lucky.”

Vi groaned again, leaning back against the seat. “Great. The sex better be worth it.”

Caitlyn laughed, shaking her head as she turned toward Vi. “Is that really all you’re thinking about?”

Vi didn’t answer—just unbuckled her seatbelt, leaned in slow and easy, caught Caitlyn’s lips with her own. The kiss was soft at first, teasing, then deeper, warmer, Vi murmuring against her mouth, “Yeah. That’s all I can think about.” She kissed her again, softer this time. “Making love to my wife.”

For a moment, just a split second, Vi felt Caitlyn hesitate—a flicker of something unreadable behind those sharp blue eyes, a breath caught too tightly in her throat. Then Caitlyn exhaled, soft and steady, her lips curling into a small, knowing smile.

“We should go inside,” she whispered, her hands pressing lightly against Vi’s chest. “My parents are waiting.”

Vi let out a dramatic sigh, but pulled back anyway, watching as Caitlyn unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the car and for a second, Vi just sat there, gripping the wheel, staring after her, wondering what the hell that flicker in Caitlyn’s eyes meant.

Then she sighed, ran a hand through her hair, and climbed out after her.

Walking into the Kiramman mansion felt almost too easy. No stiff silence, no sharp glances, no quiet judgment hanging in the air like a storm about to break. If anything, Caitlyn’s parents greeted them like nothing had happened—like Vi and Caitlyne weren't the center of every rumor that had been circulating for weeks.

“Did you two have lunch yet?” Cassandra asked, as if she were just another polite hostess instead of Caitlyn’s mother who, statistically speaking, should probably be pissed. “We can have the kitchen prepare something before dinner if you’re hungry.”

Vi barely had time to glance at Caitlyn before Tobias, Caitlyn’s father, jumped in, easy and conversational. “How’s business, Vi? Have you spoken to your father recently?”

Vi straightened, keeping her voice calm, measured, like she wasn’t half-expecting a verbal beheading at any moment. “Last I heard, he’s in Noxus,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “pretending it’s a business trip when really, he’s just eating his way through the country.”

Cassandra actually smiled at that, nodding in approval. “Good for him,” she murmured. “He should enjoy his life. Politics has a way of keeping people trapped in place.”

Vi nodded, lips twitching slightly. Yeah. Noted.

Then Tobias clapped his hands together, grinning. “I haven’t had a drink in weeks because Cassandra refuses to let me drink alone,” he said, side-eyeing his wife like she was his biggest adversary. “But now that my daughter-in-law is here, I finally have an excuse to take out that good whiskey I bought years ago.”

Vi smirked. “Sounds like a plan. After dinner, then.”

Beside her, Caitlyn exhaled, subtle, quiet, before slipping effortlessly into the space between them. “We’re going to rest for a bit before dinner,” she announced, smooth as anything, her fingers grazing Vi’s wrist for just a second before falling away. “It’s been a long morning. Cleaning day.”

Cassandra nodded, but then her gaze flicked back to Vi. “Before you go,” she said lightly, too lightly, “I’d like to speak with Vi for a bit.”

Caitlyn hesitated, just a fraction of a second, then glanced at Vi, her expression carefully unreadable before offering a small, encouraging smile. “Okay.” She turned, heading up the stairs toward her childhood bedroom without another word.

Tobias gave a knowing chuckle before disappearing into the sitting room, leaving Vi standing alone in the grand foyer with Cassandra Kiramman—who, no matter how pleasant she looked, had never once wasted time with pointless conversations.

Vi exhaled, bracing herself.

Then she followed her mother in law into her private office.

The moment they stepped into Cassandra Kiramman’s office, Vi already knew this wasn’t going to be a quick talk.

Cassandra moved with her usual composed grace, stepping behind her massive executive desk, then gestured toward the chair across from her. “Sit.”

Vi did as she was told, keeping her gaze on her mother-in-law, watching as Cassandra reached for a stack of tabloids and set them down between them with a quiet thud. Vi barely stopped herself from sighing. Right. They were going to get straight to it.

Cassandra folded her hands over the headlines—her expression controlled, sharp, unreadable in a way that made Vi’s stomach tighten.

“Do you remember when your marriage was brokered?” Her voice was smooth, conversational in a way that felt like a warning. “Five, almost six years ago now?”

Vi nodded, straightening her shoulders. “Yes, mother, I do.”

Cassandra hummed, leaning back slightly. “It was a planned union. Anticipated. A political alliance that benefited both of our cities—economically, diplomatically, even socially.” She tilted her head slightly, assessing Vi like she was one of those strategic variables she was so good at handling. “Your marriage represented unity. An end to decades of political disputes and pointless skirmishes.”

Vi swallowed, the weight of it all pressing against her ribs.

“But,” Cassandra continued, voice softening just slightly, “above all that… it was still a marriage.”

The silence stretched between them, thick and expectant, before Cassandra exhaled and finally asked what Vi had been bracing for.

“How is your marriage with my daughter?” There was no accusation in her tone, just sharp curiosity. “And this isn’t the time for chivalry, Violet. I’d rather you be honest than attempt to lie your way through this conversation.”

Vi didn’t know how to answer.

She could feel Cassandra watching her, waiting. She could lie, paint some perfect picture, but what was the point? The truth would come out one way or another, if it hadn’t already.

So Vi exhaled, straightened up, and met Cassandra’s eyes. “Right now?” she said, voice even. “It’s okay. We’ve… talked. A lot. We’ve agreed to work on things.”

And that was the truth.

But Cassandra Kiramman was not a woman who settled for vague answers.

Chapter Text

Cassandra’s gaze stayed on Vi, sharp and unreadable—the kind of stare that made people second-guess every word they’d just said. Vi didn’t fidget. Didn’t shift. Just kept her posture straight, back firm against the chair, legs crossed, hands resting carefully over her lap.

Years around the Kirammans had taught her that much. Posture was everything. How you sat, how you breathed, how you reacted—silent rules that no one ever said out loud but still expected you to follow. Vi had learned quickly.

Cassandra didn’t rush to respond. Didn’t fill the silence just to ease the weight of it. Instead, she let the quiet stretch, let Vi feel it. Let her sit in it.

Vi held steady. This wasn’t their first conversation, and it wouldn’t be their last. Cassandra had never made things unnecessarily difficult between them, never treated Vi like an outsider despite the nature of their marriage. Their relationship had always been civil, surprisingly easy, even—but that didn’t mean Vi ever forgot who she was sitting across from.

Caitlyn’s mother.

And when it came down to it, Cassandra would always be on Caitlyn’s side.

A soft sigh broke the quiet. Cassandra glanced at the tabloids stacked between them, her fingers tapping once against the glossy covers before, slowly, she pushed them aside.

Cassandra folded her hands together on the desk, gaze steady, voice composed. “How do you feel about your marriage, Violet?”

Vi tensed at the name. She knew it wasn’t accidental. Cassandra only ever called her that when she was pushing for something deeper, something real.

She must’ve hesitated too long, because Cassandra rephrased, giving her no room to misinterpret. “After five years of being married to Caitlyn, do you feel any closer to her than you did the day you wed?”

Vi exhaled slowly, running her tongue along the inside of her cheek. How the hell was she supposed to answer that? If she told the truth, she’d have to acknowledge just how strained those years had been—how distant, how disconnected. How neither of them had really tried until now. Until things had already started to break apart.

Her silence must’ve stretched too long, because Cassandra spoke again, her tone even softer but no less sharp. “Or would you rather the two of you get divorced?”

Vi’s head snapped up, heat curling in her gut. “No,” she said, firm, immediate.

Cassandra’s brow lifted, just slightly, studying her. And that was the moment Vi realized—Cassandra already knew. About the rumors, about Vi’s request for a divorce when everything started falling apart. She had to. She was just waiting to hear Vi say it.

Vi sighed, pressing her fingers together before finally admitting, “The first five years…” She swallowed, dragging a hand down her face. “We weren’t really a couple. It was more like—” Her lips pressed together. “We were just… roommates.”

Cassandra leaned back in her chair, fingers lightly tapping against the desk. “And what was that like?”

Vi stilled.

Tell the truth. Or hold back. Keep it neat, keep it clean. Make it easier.

But the thing was, she didn’t really have anyone to talk to about this. Her dad was out in Noxus, traveling and pretending to work. Powder had always been her person, but—her sister isn't exactly thrilled with Vi cheating on Caitlyn, her best friend.

So maybe this conversation, as uncomfortable as it was, was the next best thing.

Vi cleared her throat, like that would somehow make this easier. It didn’t.

She exhaled slowly, then finally spoke. “In the early years of our marriage… it always felt like I was the only one trying.”

Cassandra didn’t interrupt, just watched her, waiting. Expecting more.

Vi swallowed, then kept going. “Caitlyn ignored me most of the time—unless she needed something. We never did anything together, never acted like an actual couple. She had her own schedule, her own life, and I—” She scoffed, shaking her head. “I wasn’t part of it.”

Still, Cassandra said nothing.

Vi hesitated, then admitted, voice quieter, “I felt like I didn’t matter. Like my only role in this marriage was to get Caitlyn pregnant and make sure we looked good together in public.”

She ran a hand through her hair, fingers restless against the nape of her neck. “But I tried. I really did.” Her voice dropped slightly, something tired creeping into it. “I cooked for her. I waited up for her so we could have dinner together. I left her breakfast, made her coffee in the mornings. And she never—” She let out a breath, shaking her head again. “She never noticed.”

Another pause. A beat of silence stretched between them before Vi leaned back against the chair, gaze dropping slightly.

“The only time Caitlyn actually acknowledged me—really looked at me—was when she found out I had a mistress.” A humorless chuckle left her lips, bitter and soft. “And even that wasn’t about me. It wasn’t because she cared. It wasn’t because she was afraid to lose me.” She lifted her gaze again, steady now, unflinching. “She was afraid of what it would do to her reputation. To her family’s name. To all the work we did for Piltover and Zaun over the last five years.”

A long, quiet pause.

Cassandra exhaled softly, breaking the silence for the first time in minutes. Then, slowly, she leaned forward, hands folding together on the desk.

“So,” she murmured, voice careful, measured, like she was piecing something together, “what you want… is for this marriage to be real. You want it to be something where both of you love each other.”

A statement. A confirmation.

She let it settle. Let it hang between them, waiting to see if Vi would correct her.

Vi didn’t.

Vi didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just sat there, fingers pressing into her knee, watching as Cassandra’s gaze flicked toward the stack of tabloids she had pushed aside earlier.

"Have you and Caitlyn talked about what you wanted… before the affair?" Cassandra asked, her tone even, unreadable.

Vi exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down her face. "After the affair," she corrected, voice low. "That was the first time we actually talked about anything in our marriage."

Cassandra hummed, absorbing that. "And? How did that conversation go?"

Vi tilted her head back slightly, staring at the ceiling for a brief second before looking back at her mother-in-law. "Better than I expected," she admitted. "We listed everything out—what I wanted, what she wanted, what we both needed—and we put it into the terms of our marriage."

Cassandra gave a small nod, as if filing that information away, then leaned back in her chair. She studied Vi for a moment before asking, "Do you understand what a political marriage is, Vi?"

Vi frowned slightly, shifting in her seat. "Yes mother, of course, I—"

"Let me explain anyway," Cassandra cut in smoothly, rising from her chair and walking toward the window. She clasped her hands behind her back, eyes trailing over the manicured garden outside. "A political marriage is not about love. It never starts that way."

Vi exhaled, rubbing her hands over her knees. She knew all this. Of course, she did. She wasn’t naive about why she and Caitlyn got married. She just… never liked thinking about it like this.

"It’s a strategic arrangement," Cassandra continued, her voice calm, measured. "Two powerful parties—families, governments, or entire nations—come together, not for affection, but for influence. Status. Stability. Sometimes even peace. It’s not about romance, Vi. It’s about what both sides gain."

She turned slightly, her sharp gaze locking onto Vi.

"It’s chess, not a love story."

Vi swallowed, glancing down at her hands, but Cassandra wasn’t finished.

Cassandra didn’t pause for long before continuing. "Personal desires, emotional compatibility—those things don’t matter, not at first. Both people walk into the arrangement knowing it’s an obligation. A duty."

Vi set her jaw, but she said nothing.

Then, just as smoothly, Cassandra’s tone softened—only slightly. "But."

Cassandra took a slow step forward, her gaze steady, unreadable in that way only Caitlyn had ever managed to mirror. Then, just as smoothly, she continued, voice quiet but firm.

"Although these marriages start pragmatically, they have the potential to become something more. A bond built through shared struggles, mutual respect, and the choice to stay—not because you have to, but because you want to.” She paused, watching Vi, letting the words sink in before she added, “In arranged marriages, love comes slowly. But when it does, it can be the strongest thing you’ll ever know. Because it’s built, not given.”

Vi swallowed, shifting slightly in her chair, unsure if she was supposed to respond or just listen.

Cassandra’s expression didn’t change, but there was something almost thoughtful in her eyes as she continued. “So don’t rush it. A real marriage doesn’t happen overnight. And if you want to make this work, really work, then take the time to understand Caitlyn’s feelings—what she’s still holding back, and why.”

Then, just as smoothly as she’d begun, Cassandra nodded, leaned back in her chair, and gestured toward the door. “That’s all. You can go.”

Vi blinked, thrown off by the sudden dismissal. Of all the things she expected from this conversation, this wasn’t it. She hesitated, then asked, “You’re not gonna ask about the affair?”

Cassandra’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “And what would be the point of that?” she asked, her voice unreadable. “Every marriage has its highs and lows. Couples argue. They disappoint each other. They don’t always get it right.” She exhaled through her nose, her fingers tapping lightly on the arm of her chair. “What matters is whether they’re willing to work through it.”

Vi clenched her jaw, nodding stiffly. That answer should have been a relief, but somehow, it still made her stomach twist.

Cassandra’s voice softened, but the steel underneath it didn’t waver. “As Caitlyn’s mother, of course, I’m furious. But Caitlyn is an adult, and her marriage is her own. Tobias and I decided a long time ago that we wouldn’t interfere.” She glanced at the stack of tabloids on the desk and let out a quiet sigh. Then her eyes flicked back to Vi, sharp again, unwavering. “But make no mistake—if I see another headline like these, I might forget that decision.”

Vi swallowed hard, nodding once. “Understood.”

She was halfway to the door when Cassandra spoke again, her voice softer this time.

“I do appreciate you, Violet,” she said. “I’ve always known Caitlyn wasn’t the easiest person to be married to. And I know you’ve been patient.” Cassandra tilted her head slightly, something unreadable crossing her face. “Maybe now that you’re both finally on the same page, things will start to get easier.”

Vi didn’t turn around. She just exhaled slowly, nodded once more, and stepped out of the office, closing the door behind her.

Caitlyn sat at the edge of her bed, back straight, hands smoothing over her thighs, then pressing flat against the mattress. She wasn’t the type to fidget—never had been. Controlled, composed, collected. That’s what she was. What she had always been raised to be.

But right now, her fingers wouldn’t stay still.

Her foot bounced against the floor, an erratic rhythm she couldn’t quite stop, her body tight with something restless, something unsettled. She wanted to be still, to sit and wait like this was just another routine visit to her parents’ house. But it wasn’t, was it?

Her eyes stayed locked on the door, waiting for Vi to come back.

She had told Vi earlier that her mother had given her an earful, but she hadn’t told her everything . Just the easy parts. The parts that didn’t feel like a blade sliding under her ribs.

"How exactly could you let this happen?" Her mother’s voice had been sharp, but not raised—never raised. Cassandra Kiramman didn’t need to shout to make a point. "Did you truly care so little for your marriage that you didn’t even notice your own wife slipping away? That she was finding comfort elsewhere?"

Caitlyn had swallowed hard, hands clasped in her lap, jaw locked so tightly it ached.

"Or did you notice and just… not think it mattered?"

The words cut deeper than she wanted to admit, even now.

A sharp exhale left her lips, breaking the silence in the room. Her hands dragged down her face, nails scraping lightly over her cheekbones before she let them drop back to her lap, fingers curling into the soft fabric of her dress.

She almost stood up, the need to move clawing at her skin. To pace. To do something.

But she didn’t.

She forced herself still, shifting instead, uncrossing her legs, then crossing them again, fingers tightening around the hem of her dress. She needed to stop thinking about this.

But she couldn’t .

It had been days since that conversation, and yet her mother’s words still played on repeat, as clear as if she were hearing them for the first time. And the worst part? This wasn’t even over. She could feel it. Another conversation was coming. Another reminder of just how badly she had let things fall apart.

But right now, it wasn’t just her own impending lecture that weighed on her. It was Vi’s.

Her parents had always liked Vi. Loved her, even. Her father treated her like a drinking buddy, her mother had never once spoken ill of her. Vi had been the right choice. A strong name. A steady presence. And now? Now, Caitlyn wasn’t sure how they would look at her.

Vi had been the one to cheat, yes. But was it really fair for her to bear the brunt of her parents’ disappointment alone?

Her shoulders squared, her hands pressing against the mattress on either side of her.

She should have done more.

Caitlyn barely registered the soft creak of the door opening, too caught up in the weight of her own thoughts, the restless loop of everything her mother had said playing over and over in her head. But then Vi stepped inside—moving like she hadn’t just spent the last hour sitting across from Cassandra Kiramman, answering whatever carefully sharpened questions had been thrown her way. She looked… fine. At least on the surface. A small, easy smile resting on her lips. Too easy.

Caitlyn didn’t ask. Didn’t move. Just watched as Vi made her way toward the bed.

“You were supposed to be resting,” Vi murmured, stopping just in front of her.

Caitlyn tilted her head, offering a slight shrug. “I am resting.” She gestured vaguely to herself, still seated, still dressed from earlier, the fabric of her dress creased slightly from where she’d been curled up, shifting too much to really call it rest.

Vi only huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head as she popped open the top two buttons of her shirt, exhaling like she was finally home.

Caitlyn’s gaze flickered up, following the movement of Vi’s fingers, before settling back on her face. “How was it?”

Vi didn’t need to ask what she meant.

A small shrug. “Fine. Mostly.”

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes, watching her closely. “That’s all you’re giving me?”

Vi nodded, casual. “There’s nothing else to say.”

Caitlyn exhaled, somewhere between tired and skeptical, but before she could push the subject further, Vi moved—pressing a knee onto the mattress, leaning in, lowering herself toward her, and then—

Warmth.

Soft lips against hers, the slow press of a mouth that Caitlyn had come to recognize far more intimately in these past few weeks. Her breath hitched slightly, but she let herself sink into it, closing her eyes as Vi kissed her deeper.

She wasn’t used to this. Any of it. The kissing. The touching. The easy way Vi reached for her without hesitation.

But… she didn’t pull away either.

Except—her body did .

It wasn’t intentional, not really. Just the slightest, instinctive shift, like something inside her tensed at the feeling of being wanted this way. A fraction of a recoil before her mind caught up, before she smoothed over the moment like it never happened.

But Vi noticed.

The kiss hesitated for half a second, like Vi was waiting to see if Caitlyn would actually pull away. When she didn’t, Vi kept going, her lips pressing deeper, slower, a little more coaxing than before.

Caitlyn’s fingers twitched slightly before lifting—almost like she wasn’t sure where to touch, if she should touch—and then, carefully, she settled them at the back of Vi’s neck. A light touch at first—just fingertips grazing skin—then something firmer, pulling Vi in just a little closer.

Vi made a low sound at that, something almost pleased, but Caitlyn didn’t miss the flicker of something else—something unreadable in the crease of Vi’s brows, the almost imperceptible way her eyes softened for a split second before she deepened the kiss again.

And then, just as suddenly, Caitlyn’s thoughts derailed .

They’d only had sex once this week.

Twice. That was the deal. Twice a week, and she was supposed to be the one to initiate.

Her grip on Vi’s neck faltered slightly as her mind spun through the logistics of it. Now? Or later? After dinner?

Vi was going to drink with her father after dinner. If they waited, Caitlyn might already be asleep by the time she came back. And she really didn’t want to be woken up just for sex.

She must have hesitated too long—too caught up in her own head—because Vi suddenly pulled back, her breath warm against Caitlyn’s lips before she leaned back just enough to search her face.

Silence.

Just a few beats—nothing obvious, nothing too long—but long enough for Caitlyn to feel it. The weight of Vi’s eyes on her, the quiet expectation in the space between them, the way Vi’s fingers flexed slightly where they rested on the bed.

Then finally—

“You’re not even here right now,” Vi murmured, voice laced with amusement, but there was something else there too. Something a little more careful. “Where’d you go?”

Caitlyn blinked, her fingers twitching once more before she pulled her hand away entirely, smoothing it over the mattress instead. “I was just thinking...”

Vi let out a quiet chuckle, shaking her head before dipping down, pressing her lips to Caitlyn’s neck. “You’re not supposed to be thinking ,” she murmured against her skin, words lazy, warm, laced with amusement. Then, softer, “What’s got you so distracted?”

Caitlyn swallowed, forcing herself to stay still, to keep from tilting her head and giving Vi more access. She could already feel it—the heat of Vi’s mouth, the way her lips brushed against sensitive skin, the teasing scrape of teeth just barely grazing over her pulse before closing in, sucking slow, like she had all the time in the world.

She had to fight the small, betraying noise threatening to slip past her lips.

Instead, she exhaled, doing her best to keep her voice level. “I was thinking,” she started, clearing her throat, “if we should do this now or later—since later, you’ll be drinking with my father.”

Vi hummed against her neck, trailing her mouth lower, kissing the dip where her shoulder met her throat. “Mmh, and?”

Caitlyn tightened her grip on the fabric of Vi’s shirt, inhaling sharply when she felt fingers skimming the inside of her thigh—barely there, just the ghost of a touch moving higher.

“And your drinking sessions always last until morning.” Her breath hitched as Vi’s hand edged closer, right where thigh met heat, teasing. “And I don’t want to be woken up just for sex.”

Vi laughed, low and quiet, before dragging her lips across Caitlyn’s collarbone. “So what I’m hearing,” she murmured, voice dipping lower, “is we should just do it now —” Her fingers flexed slightly against Caitlyn’s thigh. “— and later.”

Caitlyn scoffed, shivering as Vi’s hand crept higher, pressing just enough to make her stomach tighten. “You’re being greedy.”

Vi grinned against her skin. “Always.”

Her kisses drifted to the other side of Caitlyn’s neck, slower this time, softer, before she eased her down against the bed. Caitlyn let herself sink into the mattress, her hands sliding over Vi’s shoulders as Vi’s fingers curled around the waistband of her panties, tugging them lower—

Caitlyn’s hand shot down, gripping Vi’s wrist.

Vi stilled immediately, lifting her head, searching Caitlyn’s face. “What?”

Caitlyn exhaled, steadying herself. “We haven’t decided yet.”

Vi blinked. Then sighed, dropping her forehead briefly against Caitlyn’s shoulder. “Can’t we just do what feels right in the moment?”

Caitlyn held her gaze, unreadable for a second before finally letting out a breath. “Fine.”

But something about the way she said it—too even, too much like she was agreeing rather than wanting—made Vi hesitate.

She studied Caitlyn for half a second longer before leaning back, sitting up entirely.

And then Vi’s entire expression shifted.

Caitlyn frowned slightly, confused. “What?”

The teasing, the warmth, the playful persistence—all of it faded into something distant, something a little more closed off. “You sound like you’re forcing yourself,” she muttered, pulling away. “I don’t want to do it anymore.”

Her voice stayed casual, but just for a second—barely a breath—something flickered across her face. A slight shift, the smallest downturn of her lips, gone as soon as it appeared.

Then she shook her head again, pushing off the bed entirely.

Caitlyn groaned softly, frustration curling in her chest as she sat up on the bed. Vi was still standing in front of her, arms crossed, jaw tight, looking like she was trying really hard not to be upset. Caitlyn reached out without thinking, fingers gripping both sides of Vi’s shirt—not hard, just enough to keep her there.

"I’m sorry," she murmured. "I’m not saying no, I just—”

Vi cut her off, voice quiet but firm. "You don’t want to." A statement, not a question. "You won’t say no, but you don’t really want it either."

Caitlyn groaned again, dropping her forehead against Vi’s stomach, the fabric of Vi’s shirt warm beneath her skin. "That’s not it." Her voice was muffled against the soft cotton, her fingers tightening slightly in Vi’s shirt. "I’m just trying to get used to it." A breath. Then, quieter. "We never had sex a lot, and now I feel like I’m learning everything all over again." She exhaled sharply. "I just—I feel pressured, okay? Like I have to know exactly when, where, and how to tell you I want it, and I don’t know that. It’s not natural for me yet."

Vi let out a long breath, her posture relaxing just a little. "Cait…" The tension in her voice softened. She sighed, then ran a hand through Caitlyn’s hair, fingers threading gently at the scalp, massaging lightly. "I didn’t mean to pressure you."

Caitlyn didn’t move, still resting against Vi’s stomach, still gripping Vi’s shirt like she needed something to anchor her. Vi’s fingers continued their slow, absentminded strokes through her hair, and then, voice low, she murmured, "We could do it now, so you don’t have to think about it later." A pause, then softer. "But only if you want to."

That was the thing, wasn’t it? Did she want to?

Caitlyn lifted her head, her gaze meeting Vi’s, searching. Vi’s pupils were blown, dark with something barely restrained, and Caitlyn saw it then—the flicker of heat, the way Vi’s fingers tightened slightly against her scalp. A realization settled in her chest, low and weighty. Vi wasn’t just turned on—she wanted Caitlyn. And that did something to her.

But was that enough?

She let her hands drift lower, fingers brushing against the metal clasp of Vi’s belt—then she hesitated.

Did she want this? Or did she just think she should want it?

Their marriage had been nothing but expectations for years. The expectation to marry, to be together, to perform intimacy even when it felt foreign, to carry on a relationship that never really had the foundation to begin with. She had agreed to this—to trying again, to figuring out what this marriage could be. That included sex, right?

But did that mean she wanted it?

And what if… what if she was terrible at this?

She’d never done this for Vi before, had never wanted to. But she's sure Sarah had. That thought clamped down hard on her lungs, squeezing. What if Vi compares me to her?

The idea made her chest feel tight, but before she could spiral any further, Vi’s breath hitched. Just barely. A quiet, sharp inhale as Caitlyn’s fingers barely grazed the buckle. Caitlyn glanced up, and Vi was biting her lip, watching her with a look that sent heat curling down her spine.

Caitlyn swallowed and undid the belt slowly.

Vi cursed under her breath—so quiet it was almost like she hadn’t meant to let it slip. Caitlyn felt Vi’s fingers flex slightly against her scalp, like she was holding back, and then, just for a second, Vi’s hips twitched—barely noticeable, but Caitlyn caught it, the involuntary way Vi’s body reacted to her touch.

The power of it—the knowledge that she was doing this, that Vi was reacting this way because of her—it was new. It was intoxicating.

Her fingers slid the zipper down, her heart hammering harder than she’d like to admit.

Caitlyn let her fingers linger at the waistband of Vi's boxer briefs, her breath hitching as she noticed the wet spot, the fabric darkened from Vi’s excitement. She glanced up, eyes locking onto Vi’s—Vi’s hands still tangled gently in her hair, reassuring, encouraging. Caitlyn tugged slowly, dragging Vi’s pants and boxers down together, her pulse racing wildly.

Caitlyn swallowed, heart thudding erratically as she took Vi in, really took her in, for the very first time. She'd seen Vi countless times, of course, but never from this angle, never quite this close—never with this much curiosity or nervousness crackling in the air. It felt strangely intimate, new, despite how many times they'd been together.

She couldn’t help the rush of questions bubbling inside her. Was Vi always this… big? A heat crawled up Caitlyn’s cheeks, embarrassed at her own surprise. Of course, she'd felt it before, but seeing it like this, right in front of her, made her suddenly very aware of how much she usually let Vi take the lead. Now, she was the one guiding the moment, and the thought sent sparks dancing along her nerves.

Tentatively, Caitlyn wrapped her hand around Vi, slowly, gently testing the feeling of her beneath her fingers, her grip uncertain as she began to stroke. Vi shuddered under her touch, a shaky exhale escaping her lips.

Caitlyn's heart leapt triumphantly, lips twitching into an almost-smile, but anxiety crept in again, and she found herself confessing softly, "I don’t—I don’t really know how to do this."

Vi’s smile was warm, patient, tenderly amused as she brushed Caitlyn’s hair away from her face.

"You’ll figure it out," Vi murmured softly, her voice threaded with gentle affection. "Just go slow... and, uh, watch the teeth, please."

Caitlyn nodded earnestly, taking a deep, steadying breath, before carefully leaning in and experimentally flicking her tongue over Vi’s head. Vi moaned instantly, raw and breathless, and Caitlyn felt a warm thrill bloom in her chest.

Finally, Caitlyn let herself fully smile, a quiet pride lighting up her features. Vi’s breathing quickened, her hips twitching ever so slightly, and she whispered hoarsely, "Yeah—just like that. Keep doing that, baby."

Chapter Text

Caitlyn’s flush grew darker after hearing Vi call her baby. She's still not used to it—not really. It’s an accidental endearment, a word Vi throws around like spare change, and sometimes Caitlyn wonders if it ever belonged to someone else first. Maybe it had, and Vi had simply forgotten whose nickname it was in the first place, spilling it out effortlessly into Caitlyn's lap.

Focus, Caitlyn. Now isn't the time to let those thoughts sneak in. Right. Her attention returned to Vi, to the task at hand, literally. Her rhythm steadied—tongue moving upward as her hand moved downward, sliding carefully, teasingly along Vi’s length. It felt foreign, exciting, even daring; the heat radiating off Vi sent electric little tremors dancing down Caitlyn’s spine. Her heart pounded louder every time Vi throbbed in her palm, veins rising visibly under flushed skin. The taste wasn't bad, either—though, in fairness, Caitlyn didn't exactly have a frame of reference. It wasn't like she'd been conducting taste tests.

Vi, meanwhile, was quiet in words but loud in breathy moans, hips bucking slightly every time Caitlyn’s tongue curled just right. Her fingers tangled in Caitlyn’s hair, tugging without force, until suddenly they loosened. Caitlyn glanced upward, curiosity breaking her concentration. Vi was frantically unbuttoning her shirt with trembling fingers, eyes glazed, breath coming out ragged and uneven.

Caitlyn paused entirely, forgetting everything else as she watched Vi shrug off her shirt. Vi whimpered softly, voice raw with need, "Keep going, please..."

But Caitlyn couldn't move just yet. Her eyes traveled slowly over Vi’s torso, tracing every dip and curve of muscle, marveling openly at Vi’s abs. She realized a second too late her hand had already moved, splaying flat against Vi’s firm stomach as if it belonged there. Vi stepped forward, nestling comfortably between Caitlyn's parted thighs.

Caitlyn’s palm drifted higher, inching upward, her pulse jumping wildly as her hand cupped Vi’s breast, fingers exploring softly through the barrier of fabric. 

Her lips parted, brushing Vi’s skin, her voice coming out softer than she intended but thick with want, with curiosity, with something dangerously close to hunger. “Take this off.”

Vi didn’t even hesitate.

The moment Vi’s sports bra was off, Caitlyn’s fingers immediately returned to Vi’s breast, twisting and gently pulling, savoring how Vi’s nipples hardened beneath her touch. Caitlyn watched intently, captivated by Vi’s reactions. Vi didn’t disappoint—her eyelids fluttered shut, lips parting as she released a soft, needy moan, perfectly satisfying Caitlyn’s curiosity.

Vi reached down then, covering Caitlyn’s hand with her own, guiding her silently yet insistently along her hard length. She wasn’t sure what to expect—Vi always seemed so self-assured, so in control—but now, like this, she was nothing but ragged breaths and barely restrained need.

“Take me in your mouth,” Vi rasped, voice hoarse, almost pleading.

Caitlyn bit her lip, briefly uncertain, wondering exactly how she was supposed to manage that. Her eyes fell to the bead of precum forming at Vi’s tip, shimmering enticingly. Curiosity getting the better of her, she flicked her tongue out cautiously. Vi’s hand immediately shot up, gripping the bedpost as she groaned deeply, bracing herself against the intensity. Caitlyn paused thoughtfully, tongue lingering. The taste wasn’t bad—not exactly describable, either, just slightly salty, oddly appealing. She was still turning it over in her head when Vi groaned again, voice strained with urgency.

“Cait, please—take me in your mouth already.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes affectionately, her lips curling into a teasing smile. “Janna, you’re so impatient.”

Vi’s only response was a frustrated grunt.

Drawing in a deep breath, Caitlyn steadied herself and slowly opened her mouth, carefully sliding Vi inside—or at least as much as she could comfortably manage. Vi sucked in a sharp breath, her hips instinctively twitching forward, wanting more but clearly restraining herself. Caitlyn continued stroking the rest of Vi’s length with her hand, matching the steady rhythm of her tongue as it swirled and teased. It wasn’t easy at first, definitely awkward, but the breathless sounds escaping Vi made her efforts worth every moment.

Her other hand hadn’t stopped its gentle teasing either, fingertips still lightly squeezing and tugging at Vi’s nipple, intensifying the sensations rushing through Vi’s body. Caitlyn felt a warm swell of pride building in her chest as Vi’s muscles went taut beneath her fingertips, tension humming through every inch of her. 

Caitlyn hummed softly around Vi's length, fingers sliding down the firm plane of Vi's stomach, tracing the subtle dips and curves of her muscles. She felt Vi tense beneath her touch, heard the hitch of breath and saw the slight tremble that passed through Vi’s thighs. That reaction alone sent a sharp thrill racing through Caitlyn’s chest, making her heart beat faster. She felt powerful—and a little vulnerable—discovering this new side of herself.

Feeling emboldened, Caitlyn drew a steadying breath and leaned in further, cautiously taking Vi deeper, curious to find the edge of her own comfort. Above her, Vi let out a broken curse, eyes squeezed shut, fingertips brushing softly through Caitlyn’s hair. She guided gently but with a desperate undertone, murmuring breathlessly, "Fuck, Cait. Can you—can you suck a little?"

Caitlyn paused, uncertain, pulling back slightly to glance up. Their eyes met, Caitlyn’s questioning, cheeks flushed pink. Vi offered a faint, strained smile, voice soft with affection despite her obvious impatience.

"You know, like you'd suck on a straw," Vi explained, breathing unevenly. She laughed quietly, a nervous little exhale that eased the tension. "Sorry, kinda hard to think clearly right now."

Caitlyn rolled her eyes lightly, warmth spreading through her chest at Vi’s sincerity. She returned to Vi’s length, lips curving around her again, carefully hollowing her cheeks, drawing softly. Vi immediately gasped, her chest rising sharply, fingers tightening in Caitlyn’s hair—not painful, just enough to show how much she needed this.

Slowly, Vi’s hips began rocking gently forward, falling into a careful rhythm, similar to when Vi was inside her. Caitlyn struggled momentarily, Vi’s length grazing the back of her throat, making her eyes sting and breath hitch. Her hand flexed instinctively against Vi’s thigh as she forced herself to breathe through her nose, focusing on calming the brief discomfort.

"Cait, shit—that feels so good," Vi whispered shakily, eyes opening briefly, glazed and heavy-lidded. Her breathing grew deeper, louder, a soft whimper escaping as her hips stilled a moment to regain control. Caitlyn’s chest tightened pleasantly at that sound, heat pooling sharply between her thighs. Her scent blossomed in the air, and she knew instantly Vi noticed—Vi’s nostrils flared slightly, pupils blown wide, lips parting in surprise.

Caitlyn felt exposed yet strangely empowered, desire flooding her veins as she watched Vi’s control slip a little further away. She leaned into that feeling, fingers curling possessively against Vi’s hipbone, steadying herself as she continued to swirl her tongue gently around Vi’s shaft, relishing every small, broken sound she could pull from Vi’s lips.

Then, unexpectedly, Vi pulled back, chest rising and falling rapidly, skin flushed and glistening. Caitlyn, startled by the sudden halt, wiped her lips and searched Vi’s face, worry flickering across her features.

“Vi?” she asked softly, voice uncertain. “Is something wrong?”

Vi let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head as she met Caitlyn’s gaze with a reassuring smile. “No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just…” She paused, voice thick and raw, eyes darkened with desire. “I'm really fucking close, and I don’t wanna finish in your mouth. Didn’t wanna freak you out, y’know?”

Caitlyn smiled back, arching a skeptical brow. “Is that really it?”

Vi chuckled, low and husky, a mischievous gleam lighting her eyes as her hands went to the waistband of her pants, swiftly pushing them down along with her underwear. “Alright, fine,” she admitted playfully, kicking the fabric aside, “I also wanna finish inside you.”

Caitlyn shook her head fondly, her heart jumping excitedly in her chest as she stood, quickly pulling off her dress. The moment the fabric hit the floor, Vi’s hands grasped Caitlyn’s waist, pulling her flush against her body. Their lips crashed together, a deep, hungry kiss that made Caitlyn’s knees weaken. Vi’s fingers immediately slipped beneath Caitlyn’s panties, dragging them down smoothly, clearly unconcerned about where Caitlyn’s mouth had just been.

As Caitlyn stepped free of her underwear, Vi spun her around swiftly, gently bending her forward over the bed. Caitlyn gasped, glancing over her shoulder in surprise, cheeks burning hot. They’d never done this before—Vi had always been on top of her, they’ve never tried it any other way. But today, it seemed, was full of new firsts.

She watched closely, pulse racing, as Vi positioned herself behind her, guiding her length to Caitlyn’s entrance, already slick and aching with anticipation. Vi’s hand tightened possessively around Caitlyn’s hip, steadying her as she slowly slid inside. A low, guttural curse escaped Vi’s lips, mingling with a groan of pure satisfaction. “Fuck—Cait, you feel so damn good.”

Caitlyn’s lips parted wider, breath hitching sharply the deeper Vi pressed. Only when Vi filled her completely, buried deep within her core, did Caitlyn finally face forward again, eyes fluttering shut, gripping the sheets tightly beneath trembling fingers. Vi didn’t waste another second, hips beginning to snap forward fast and deep, each thrust hitting just right, igniting sparks along Caitlyn’s spine.

Caitlyn bit down hard on her lip, desperately fighting the moans threatening to spill from her throat—but Vi was making that restraint impossible, sliding into her perfectly, again and again, driving her closer and closer to losing control. Her body responded instantly, heat flooding her core, making her wetter with every thrust, and soon her walls tightened instinctively around Vi’s length.

Vi groaned loudly, fingers digging firmly into Caitlyn’s hips as she slammed deep inside, shattering the last of Caitlyn’s resistance. Caitlyn’s moan tore freely from her throat, filling the room with the raw sound of her pleasure.

Caitlyn startled herself with her own moan—it slipped out before she could stop it, loud enough that her cheeks flushed instantly. She hadn’t intended to let Vi hear it so openly. But now curiosity surged through her: Did hearing her moan affect Vi as much as Vi’s moans had affected her earlier? Last time they’d slept together, Vi practically begged Caitlyn to moan out loud. Was this why? Did it turn Vi on even more—make her ache harder? Was it the same reaction Caitlyn felt, that slick, aching heat when Vi moaned for her earlier? Or was it just Vi, specifically Vi, who managed to unravel her like that?

Her mind started spiraling into deeper confusion, but Vi quickly brought Caitlyn back into the moment, leaning over her back, trailing hot, wet kisses down Caitlyn’s spine, letting her tongue trace a slow path before biting gently at the sensitive skin. All the while, Vi kept moving inside her, thrusting deep and smooth, making Caitlyn’s thoughts scatter completely.

Then Vi paused, pressing close against Caitlyn’s back, her breath hot and uneven by Caitlyn’s ear as she whispered huskily, “You like that, Cait? Do you like feeling me inside you, filling you up?” Her voice dropped even lower, rough and pleading, “Tell me. Do you like it when you feel me pulse inside you?”

Caitlyn froze, suddenly unsure. Was she supposed to answer? Before she could decide, Vi whispered again, a soft, vulnerable plea, “Baby, tell me… please.”

Swallowing thickly, Caitlyn reached down blindly to find Vi’s hand on her hip, squeezing gently as reassurance. “Yes,” she whispered shakily, heart pounding wildly. “I—I like it when you’re inside me.”

She felt Vi smile softly against her back—a warm, satisfied gesture—before she straightened again, gripping Caitlyn’s hips firmly and thrusting even harder than before. Caitlyn gasped, mouth falling open as moans spilled freely with every sharp movement. She felt herself pitched forward, collapsing onto the bed, her cries muffled into the sheets, fingers twisting desperately into the fabric.

Her thighs trembled uncontrollably, muscles tightening as pleasure spiraled, building sharply inside her. She could feel it clearly now, her body clenching tighter around Vi with each thrust, drawing her closer and closer. Caitlyn pushed herself back up from the mattress, voice breaking in a desperate whimper, begging Vi urgently, “Faster—Vi, please—I’m so close. Janna, please, faster!”

Vi’s thrusts grew rougher, quicker, making Caitlyn nearly sob in relief. She felt Vi throbbing deep inside her, pulsing hotly, perfectly timed with her own tightening muscles. Then suddenly, Vi pulled out completely, leaving Caitlyn gasping and on the edge of frustrated protest.

But before she could speak, Vi quickly flipped her over, guiding Caitlyn onto her back and pressing her knees firmly toward her chest, folding her neatly into a mating press. In a heartbeat, Vi slid back inside her in one swift, possessive motion, stealing Caitlyn’s breath entirely.

Vi kept moving, deep and steady, dragging Caitlyn closer to the edge, past it—until she was trembling, her whole body tightening as the pleasure hit all at once. Her fingers dug into Vi’s arms, her breath catching hard in her throat before breaking loose in a sharp, shuddering moan. Vi groaned right after, hips stuttering, spilling into Caitlyn with a rough exhale, her body going rigid for a second before melting against her.

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. The room was quiet except for the sound of them breathing, both of them still caught in that slow, hazy aftershock, limbs tangled together, too warm, too sensitive to move just yet.

Caitlyn let out a shaky breath, trying to process—everything. How good it felt. How her body was still thrumming, pulsing faintly with every slow, uneven beat of her heart. How it wasn’t just the sex that felt different.

It was the way Vi collapsed against her afterward, all warmth and weight, nuzzling into Caitlyn’s neck like she belonged there. It was the way Caitlyn’s fingers drifted into Vi’s hair, absentminded, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

That realization settled heavily in her chest. She had never thought of sex as something she could want. Not really.

But this… this was different.

Her body didn’t tense the way it used to after intimacy, bracing for space, for distance, for that inevitable moment when it all felt like an obligation again. Instead, she felt the opposite. Relaxed. Sated. Maybe even… wanting more.

Vi shifted, pushing up slightly, just enough to meet Caitlyn’s eyes, her expression unread—until it wasn’t. A slow, knowing smirk spread across her lips.

“You’re starting to like this,” she murmured, voice low, teasing.

Caitlyn exhaled, slow, measured, like she was trying to convince herself of something.

Her mouth opened—then closed.

She wasn’t even sure why she hesitated. The answer was obvious, wasn’t it? She could still feel it, the way her body was thrumming, a little too aware of Vi pressed against her, the warmth still settling deep in her bones. She should just say it.

But Vi was watching her— really watching her. Patient. Waiting.

That only made it harder.

Caitlyn swallowed, licked her lips, and finally, just barely above a whisper, admitted, “Maybe I am.”

Vi didn’t react right away. No teasing smirk, no sharp remark—just a quiet hum, like she’d known the answer before Caitlyn did.

And then she leaned in.

The kiss was slower this time. Less playful. Less about proving something and more about… Caitlyn wasn’t sure. It felt real in a way that made her chest ache, her fingers tightening slightly where they rested against Vi’s back.

When Vi pulled back, Caitlyn should’ve let it end there. Should’ve just closed her eyes, let herself sink into the moment, let the conversation fade.

But instead—

“Did you like it?” she asked, quieter now, almost thoughtful.

Vi blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?”

Caitlyn hesitated, her fingers twitching against the sheets. She could not believe she was asking this.

But now that the words had started, they weren’t stopping.

“Earlier. When I…” Her voice trailed off, but the way Vi’s breath hitched, the way her fingers twitched where they were still absentmindedly tracing over Caitlyn’s hip, told her she didn’t need to finish the sentence.

For a second, Vi didn’t say anything. Then she huffed out a breath, not quite a laugh, brushing her thumb over Caitlyn’s cheek.

“You did really well for a first time,” she murmured, voice lower than before. A pause. Then, smirking, she added, “But I wouldn’t mind some more practice.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes.

Vi grinned.

And yet—Caitlyn didn’t pull away. Not even when Vi’s hand drifted lower, tracing lazy, absentminded circles against her skin. Not even when Vi pressed one last kiss—softer, this time—to her jaw before settling in more comfortably against her.

Caitlyn just let her.

For once, she didn’t overthink it.

Dinner passed in a blur, the conversation light—mostly small talk, updates about Caitlyn’s position on the council and what laws and projects are being talked about, Vi’s latest work with her weapons company. Nothing too personal, nothing too tense. Just the usual.

Tobias, in between bites of steak, mentioned he’d be going hunting soon on the outskirts of Piltover and casually extended an invitation to both Caitlyn and Vi. Cassandra, barely looking up from her wine glass, reminded them about the upcoming gatherings they’d be expected to attend.

And then, because no Kiramman family dinner would be complete without it, Tobias, in the most casual way possible, asked when they were finally going to give him grandkids.

“It’s been a while now, hasn’t it?” He speared a piece of roast on his fork, not even looking up as he spoke. “Your mother and I aren’t getting any younger, you know.”

Caitlyn felt heat rise to her face. There it is.

She cleared her throat, forcing herself to sound composed. “We’re working on it. Maybe next year.”

Vi, who had been sipping her drink, set it down with a small smirk. “Or sooner.”

Caitlyn’s gaze snapped to her wife, brow lifting slightly, but Vi just smiled at her, and shrugged, smug as ever.

She didn’t press the issue. Not here, not now. Instead, she let the conversation move along, listened as Tobias went on about some old friend’s new investment and Cassandra exchanged pleasantries about the state of the city’s politics.

When dinner finally ended, Tobias clapped Vi on the shoulder and motioned toward the sitting room, already talking about some bottle of whiskey he’d been dying to open. Vi glanced at Caitlyn, her eyes softening just slightly, but she didn’t hesitate before following her father-in-law, already slipping into easy conversation.

Cassandra sighed, shaking her head as she stood. “He can’t hold his liquor the way he used to,” she muttered under her breath.

Caitlyn only huffed a quiet laugh. “And yet, he keeps trying.”

She turned to Vi. “I’m heading up.”

Vi nodded, smiling as she leaned in to kiss Caitlyn’s cheek—brief, careful, restrained. Caitlyn knew that if her parents weren’t in the room, Vi would’ve kissed her properly. But here? In front of them? Not a chance.

She had just turned toward the stairs when her mother’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Caitlyn.”

Not a question. Not a request.

A summons.

Caitlyn swallowed down a sigh, glanced once at Vi, then turned, already knowing where this was headed.

“Come to my office,” Cassandra said simply, already walking ahead.

Caitlyn followed.

The moment the office door shut behind them, Cassandra's carefully curated warmth disappeared. No more polite smiles, no more effortless hostess act—just the cool, assessing stare of a politician stripping away pretense.

Caitlyn didn’t flinch. She walked to the chair across from her mother’s desk, sinking into it with practiced ease—back straight, legs crossing fluidly, hands folded in her lap. A portrait of composure.

Cassandra didn’t sit. She reached for a folder, placed it on the desk between them, and slid it forward. Caitlyn already knew what was inside. Still, she pulled the contents free, flipping through the damning evidence as if it might somehow look different this time. But it didn’t. It was the same set of photographs Mel had received—had shown her. Vi and her mistress, tangled together in varying states of undress. Too intimate, too explicit to be misinterpreted.

Caitlyn exhaled through her nose, closing the folder with a quiet thump . “I’ve seen them.”

“I know,” Cassandra said smoothly. “The question is, what have you done about it?”

Her tone was even, but the weight behind it pressed down like a vice.

“Have you investigated?” she continued, stepping around her desk, moving closer. “Do you know where these photos came from? Who took them? Who sent them? And more importantly—why? Have you even considered how all this happened?”

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened. The questions weren’t unexpected, but they still scraped against her nerves.

She sighed, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Of course I have. Just because I don’t talk about it doesn’t mean I’m not doing anything.”

Cassandra’s eyes flickered, sharp with something Caitlyn couldn’t quite name. Amusement? Disbelief? Neither would surprise her.

“Not always true,” her mother replied, voice deceptively mild. “You never talked about your marriage either. And you certainly weren’t doing anything about it.”

Caitlyn bristled. She pushed to her feet, irritation prickling up her spine. “We’re trying now. We’ve talked. We agreed we’d put in the effort.”

Cassandra barely blinked. “You should have done that five years ago,” she said coolly, “instead of waiting until your wife was lonely enough to find someone else to warm her bed.”

The words sliced clean through Caitlyn’s composure, leaving something raw and defensive in its wake. She sat back down, inhaling slowly, forcing herself to stay still.

She stared at her mother, voice quieter this time. “Are you saying this is all my fault, mother?”

Cassandra sighed—less out of frustration, more out of something heavier, something worn down over time.

“You’ve always been detached, Caitlyn,” she said, not unkindly, but without sparing her from the truth. “With everything. With everyone. The only people you’ve ever let in are your father, Powder, and me.”

A pause. Then, softer, sharper—cutting deeper than anything else she’d said:

“But Vi isn’t just someone in your life. She’s your wife . You could have at least tried .”

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

Then Cassandra tilted her head slightly, studying Caitlyn like she was seeing her for the first time.

“Tell me,” she murmured, “do you even know what marriage is ?”

Caitlyn exhaled sharply, voice dropping to something barely above a mutter. “I know what marriage is.” Her fingers curled against her lap, nails pressing into her palm. “But a real marriage starts with love, doesn’t it? And I never felt that way about Vi.”

She glanced at Cassandra then, a quiet plea hidden beneath the frustration in her eyes. “Expecting me to treat this as anything other than what it was—a contract, something arranged—was unfair to me too.”

Cassandra sighed, shaking her head, disappointment evident but not entirely without sympathy. She had raised Caitlyn, after all. If her daughter had blind spots, she could only blame herself for not pointing them out sooner.

Still, she didn’t soften.

"You think because this marriage wasn’t built on love, you were absolved of the responsibility to try .” Cassandra’s voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable sharpness beneath it. “You think because it was arranged, because it was strategic, because it was dictated by forces greater than either of you, that it didn’t require your care .”

She took a slow step forward, eyes never leaving Caitlyn’s.

“But love doesn’t have to be the foundation of a marriage. Effort can be. Respect can be. A willingness to reach across the distance and say, ‘I may not have chosen you, but I will choose to try.’”

Caitlyn’s throat tightened.

“And yet, you never did,” Cassandra continued, voice quiet but cutting. “You let the distance fester. And now, you act surprised by the outcome."

Caitlyn tilted her head back, staring up at the ceiling, forcing out a slow, measured breath. “I know I made mistakes,” she admitted, voice strained. “I know I should’ve done more. I’m trying to fix it.”

Cassandra scoffed, unimpressed. “Oh, now you want to fix it?” She let out a humorless laugh. “What does your father always say about health? Prevention is better than cure ?” Her gaze pinned Caitlyn in place. “It’s the same thing. You wouldn’t even be in this situation if you had enough awareness to prevent it from happening in the first place.”

That was the final crack in Caitlyn’s composure.

Her patience snapped like a frayed wire, and before she could stop herself, she yelled, “I’m sorry ! I’m sorry I disappointed Vi! I’m sorry I disappointed you ! But I didn’t know what the hell I was doing!”

Her breath came fast and shallow, pulse pounding against her ribs.

“It’s not like I’ve been married before, Mother! How was I supposed to know what was right or wrong? What was expected of me? What I was supposed to do?!” She dragged a hand through her hair, frustration boiling over. “I can research all I want, I can read a hundred books, I can watch people in so-called perfect marriages, and I’d still be just as clueless because I’ve never been in that situation before! This is my first marriage, mother!”

Silence hung between them for half a second—sharp, electric—before Cassandra cut through it.

"And it will be your last marriage as well!" she shot back, voice like steel.

Caitlyn flinched, not expecting the weight of those words, the sheer finality of them.

Cassandra sighed, rubbing her temple as if she were trying to force down the remnants of her anger. When she spoke again, the frustration was still there, but now layered with something quieter, something that almost sounded like regret.

“No one expected you to have it all figured out,” she said, softer now. “But the least you could have done was try .”

She shook her head, exhaling heavily. “To try and open up to your spouse. To try and understand her. To try and communicate like a wife instead of a councilwoman negotiating a damn trade agreement.”

Caitlyn swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry. She had no argument left, no sharp retort to throw back.

Because, for all her anger, her mother was right.

Chapter Text

Vi watched as her father-in-law opened the bottle of whiskey, poured a tiny amount into a shot glass, and then tipped it right out the window, grinning.

“That first shot’s for Janna,” he said, “so she doesn’t feel left out.”

Vi snorted, shaking her head. “If everyone offers Janna a shot every time someone starts drinking,” she said, “the goddess would never have a sober day at all.”

Tobias laughed out loud as he sat down. “I’m sure a goddess like Janna’s got a strong tolerance for alcohol.”

Vi chuckled, and her father-in-law placed ice in both their glasses, pouring them each a generous serving of whiskey. Then they leaned back and drank in silence for a bit, savoring the liquor.

After a moment, Tobias broke the quiet. “I feel like we’re drinking like two old men now,” he said, with a soft pft and that opened the door to talk—boxing, politics, the usual drama in Piltover’s council, economic growth in Zaun.

Then, surprisingly, Tobias shifted the topic. “There’s a concert happening soon,” he said. “Seraphine’s putting on a show.”

Vi slowly raised an eyebrow.

“Caitlyn likes her,” Tobias added.

Vi blinked. Didn’t say anything for a second, just took a sip and let the thought settle. Caitlyn? Glitter pop? Huh?

“Music never really stuck with her growing up,” Tobias went on, watching the way his whiskey caught the light. “But when Seraphine came around… I don’t know, something changed. Started listening to her a lot after you two got married. Said it helped her focus.”

He paused, then continued, “I was thinking of buying tickets for her. Make it a father-daughter thing.” He rolled the glass between his palms, then gave a small shrug. “But Caitlyn’s a grown woman now. Maybe you should take her instead—make it a proper date.”

Vi sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Dates weren’t really our thing,” she said. “I can’t even remember a time when we did go out on a date.”

She hesitated, lips pressing together before she added, “But we did agree to try and do more things as a couple… so maybe inviting her to the concert wouldn’t be the worst idea.”

Tobias smiled at that and nodded. After a short beat, he commented, “You two’ve been married a while now.”

Then he paused again, gaze lingering on the rim of his glass, mouth twitching into something like a smile. “Feels like not long ago, you and Caitlyn were just kids who barely got along.”

Tobias was looking far away for a while, like he was trying to remember something, then he suddenly looked at Vi and smiled and shifted the topic elsewhere.

“You remember that summer we all went horseback riding?” he asked.

Vi nodded slowly. “Yeah. Powder’s first time on a pony. Screamed her lungs off. I got on a horse pretty fast to get away from the gut wrenching wails.”

Tobias chuckled. “Vander was glued to her the whole time,” he said. “While you and Caitlyn rode off, unsupervised.”

He paused, took a drink, and smiled fondly at her. “You were all energy back then. Charging ahead like you owned the whole damn trail. No fear at all. Like you were born for it.”

Vi gave a quiet laugh but didn’t say anything, remembering that day on her own.

“But Caitlyn,” Tobias continued, “she took her time. Watched the path. Stayed steady.” He raised his eyebrows slightly, remembering. “You kept shouting at her to catch up, but she never did.”

Vi smirked, but there was something faint behind it. “She never does.”

“Yes… She never rushed.” he said. “Just kept moving at her own pace.”

A pause.

“How about that that winter trip a few years later, do you remember that?” Tobias added. “You were so excited to play in the snow with Powder—she was a bit bigger by then, already able to keep up with you.”

Vi smirked. “Dad was so pissed that day. We kept playing in the snow and lost track of time. Me and Powder got an earful from Dad, mostly me, because Powder was still dad’s baby.” she said with a scoff.

Tobias chuckled and nodded, eyebrows lifting. “You two were tearing down hills with that sled like it was the end of the world. And the whole time, you kept calling out to Caitlyn, running back to her and trying to show her how much fun it was.”

Vi made a small, sheepish sound in the back of her throat. “But she didn’t play with us that day.”

Tobias nodded again. “Yes, she didn’t. She just watched you and Powder go further and further.”

He paused.

Then, quieter, “And when you were so far she couldn’t catch up even if she wanted to… she went inside the cabin.”

Vi stared into her glass. Said nothing.

“And you,” Tobias said, voice soft but steady, “didn’t even notice she was gone.”

Vi smiled and teased her father-in-law.

“Since when did you turn into a sentimental old man?” she said, eyebrow raised.

Tobias laughed. “Old man, huh? Who you callin’ old?” He shook his head, the grin lingering. “I was just thinkin’ back… wondering how you and Caitlyn grew up together and still ended up so far apart.”

Vi didn’t have an answer to that. It was true, though. She and Caitlyn had always been in each other’s orbit, always circling, always within arm’s reach—and yet… they couldn’t be more worlds apart.

Tobias downed his drink in one gulp, then sighed deeply.

“With everything going on between you two,” he said, slower now, “something’s bound to give.”
A beat.
“You might’ve saved what’s left of the marriage now… but down the line?”
Another pause.
“You might not be able to anymore.”

Vi looked at her father-in-law, throat tightening. She wanted to say it—that she was trying, that they were both trying—but the words didn’t come. They caught somewhere between her chest and her mouth, stuck. So she said nothing, just quietly sipped her liquor.

The silence wrapped around her, heavy and awkward.

Tobias broke it.

“You should already know by now,” he said, voice steady but soft, “Caitlyn’s not the type to run just ‘cause someone’s running.”

He shifted in his seat, drank again. “And she’s not gonna reach for something just ‘cause it’s being offered, either.”

Another sip, slower this time.

“But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want it,” Tobias said. “Doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to do something. She just… has to decide for herself.”

He took another drink, crossed his legs, and met Vi’s eyes.

“You spent five years pulling her forward,” he said. “Trying to make her catch up to you.”

He didn’t look away.

“Now that she’s finally trying?” His voice dipped lower. “You gotta stop running ahead, Vi. You need to start walking beside her.”

He leaned back slightly, eyes still locked on hers.

“You can’t keep offering things just because you want to. You’ve got to learn what she wants, too.”

Vi didn’t speak. Just stared down into her glass, thumb slowly tracing the rim as if that small, pointless motion could keep her from unraveling.

Caitlyn slumped in her chair—actually slumped. No poise, no etiquette, no decorum, no discipline. Just a tired woman in front of her mother, getting the scolding of her life.

“What investigation have you even started?” Cassandra’s voice cut through the room. “And what’s the progress so far?” A pause, then sharper—“And for heaven’s sake, sit up straight.”

Caitlyn sighed, loud enough to make a point—but she sat up anyway. Spine straight. Chin level. Even if her eyes were flat with exhaustion.

“I’ve got someone on it,” she said. “The photos were bad, yeah, but… some of them were taken way too close. Bedroom shots. Either someone broke into Vi’s condo, or the mistress did it herself.”

Cassandra nodded once, slowly. “If it’s the mistress, then what did she want?”

Caitlyn shrugged. “I’ve got someone digging into Sarah Fortune. Who she’s connected to. What kind of motive she might have.”

“Money,” Cassandra said, cutting in. “Or politics.”

“No.” Caitlyn shook her head, voice steady but tired. “She’s already rich. Owns her own company. She’s not doing this for money.” She exhaled through her nose. “And I looked into the political angle already. She has no affiliations. No one stands to gain anything from tearing me or Vi down.”

Cassandra leaned back in her chair, exhaling slow and sharp.

“We’re missing something,” she muttered. “And I hate not knowing who I’m up against.”

Then she straightened again, her gaze locking onto Caitlyn. “What about Vi? Does she have enemies who’d benefit from this?”

Caitlyn sighed, fingers twitching slightly in her lap. She shook her head. “I don’t know. And I can’t ask her.”

Cassandra narrowed her eyes. “Why not?”

Caitlyn hesitated. Thought about it. Just for a second. How easy it would be to ask. How quickly Vi might tell her the truth. But no.

“I can’t,” she said, firmer now. “I promised not to bring up the affair. I said I’d stop talking about the mistress. I’m keeping my word.”

Cassandra sighed, her tone dipping into sarcasm. “Well, if you’re not going to ask Vi directly, then investigate her like a criminal. I’m sure that’ll do wonders for your already failing marriage.”

Caitlyn let out another sigh, sharper this time. “I’m not doing that. I’m not going to ask, but I’m not going to dig into her personal life either—not like that.”

Cassandra scoffed and stood up. “There shouldn’t even be a need to investigate Vi if the two of you were actually open with each other. You’re married, Caitlyn. There shouldn’t be secrets between a married couple.”

Her voice rose slightly. “Secrets are what got you into this mess in the first place. Secrets and Vi’s personal affairs.”

Caitlyn’s jaw clenched, her hand twitching slightly at her side. Then she stood, the chair legs scraping behind her. “Then maybe you should’ve told her that, not me.”

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed. “If you’d been doing your part as her wife, I wouldn’t have had to say anything at all.”

Caitlyn’s voice cracked, and she didn’t bother to fix it. “What’s done is done! We can stand here all day listing everything I should’ve done differently, but it won’t change what happened.”

She stepped away from her chair, arms crossing tight over her chest. Her voice dropped, quieter now, shaking in spite of her best efforts. “I expected you to think this was all my fault. But I was hoping, just once, for a little understanding.”

Her throat tightened. She blinked hard, trying to hold it together. Her voice thinned. “I wasn’t the one who had the affair…”

She swallowed hard, the words catching as they left her. “And somehow I’m still the one being demonized in this house.”

Cassandra’s face didn’t soften, not immediately. “I’m not demonizing you,” she said. “Yes, I’m harsher with you—but that doesn’t mean I’m siding with Vi.”

She exhaled, slow and tired, and sank back into her chair.

“I’m harsher because you’re my daughter. I raised you. Your mistakes, your upbringing—that reflects on me.”

Then, softer now, her tone shifting. “Vi… she’s just my daughter-in-law. I’m not going to tear into her like I gave birth to her. Because I didn’t. Vander will deal with her when he comes back from his trip. I’m sure Vi would be more receptive to her father’s opinions than that of her in laws.”

She looked up again. Her voice was no longer sharp.

“Sit down.”

Caitlyn didn’t make a move to sit down. She just stood there, arms crossed and angry at her mother’s subtle betrayal.

Cassandra sighed. Her tone shifted—firmer this time. “Sit down, Caitlyn.”

Finally, Caitlyn did.

Cassandra looked at her carefully. “Yes, the affair was bad. Not just because Vi’s your wife, but because of who you are. Who she is. What both of you represent.”

“I know that,” Caitlyn cut in, sharp. “I’m a politician too, remember? I don’t need you reminding me that if this scandal ever gets out, Vi’s career could be destroyed, and the council would tear me apart just for being associated with it.”

Her voice dropped slightly. “That’s why I have people looking into it. Quietly.”

Cassandra leaned back in her chair, nodding once. “There are a lot of people who’d love to see you removed from the council,” she said. “Your work—holding the balance between good and evil, right and wrong—that role matters. It always has.” She paused, tone quieter now. “It’s the one thing our family’s never been allowed to fail at.”

Then, more measured, “But maybe… just maybe, this isn’t a grand political play. Maybe Vi just wanted someone else.”

Caitlyn looked down, just for a moment. The words hit harder than she wanted them to. Then she lifted her chin.

“Then why send me the photos?” she asked. “Why stir the tabloids with rumors that are mostly true?”

She shook her head. “This wasn’t just an affair. Someone wanted me to know about it. They wanted to force my hand. Make me react.”

She paused. Let the silence stretch.

“Which is why we did everything as quietly as possible. The meeting with the lawyers, Vi moving back in. I didn’t want to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing me crumble because of my marriage.” Her voice sharpened, steady as steel. “But I’m going to find out who did this and why. And when I do… I’ll deal with it.”

Cassandra looked at her—slowly, eyes moving up and down, quietly measuring. Then she nodded, reached into the drawer, and pulled out a folded sheet of paper, setting it on the table.

Caitlyn reached for it. She unfolded it carefully and scanned the contents.

It was the affidavit of the new terms she and Vi had added to their marriage agreement.

Caitlyn looked it over—carefully, slowly. Her name. Vi’s. Their signatures. The notations in the margins, all agreed upon. She ran her thumb once along the edge of the paper, then placed it back on the table.

“How did you get this?” she asked, trying not to sound accusatory. “Only my lawyer, Vi’s lawyer, Vi, and I have copies.”

Cassandra shrugged. “I have my ways,” she said coolly. “That’s not important.”

She took the paper back with a faint smile. “Vi really wants this marriage to work, huh?”

Caitlyn looked away, her expression tight.

Cassandra set the document down again, more gently this time. “That’s all well and good. But what do you want?”

Caitlyn sighed, her shoulders dropping just slightly. “Honesty. Loyalty.” She shook her head. “I already put that in the affidavit.”

Cassandra hummed and stood, walking over to her. She sat down in the chair beside Caitlyn’s, angling her body to face her.

“Marriage is never easy,” she said, voice quieter now. “Especially if you walk into it unwillingly.”

A pause. Then, with the faintest shift in tone, “But at least you’re trying to meet her halfway.”

Caitlyn didn’t answer right away.

Cassandra exhaled and asked, “How are you doing?”

Caitlyn shrugged automatically. “I’m fine.”

Cassandra let out a soft laugh, not unkind. “No. I meant how are you really doing?”

Caitlyn sighed again, leaned back in her chair, and tipped her head toward the ceiling. Her eyes traced a crack in the molding she hadn’t noticed before.

“It still feels… new,” she said after a moment. “I’m trying. I really am. I’ve been doing exactly what we agreed to on the new terms. And it’s fine. It’s good, even.”

She hesitated. “But sometimes things still take me by surprise.”

Cassandra didn’t speak, but her posture shifted slightly, leaning in—not crowding, just present.

Caitlyn glanced at her, cheeks coloring. “The intimacy is… it’s different now,” she said, then looked down at her hands. “Sometimes it’s… a lot.”

She swallowed. “But I don’t say anything to Vi because… I don’t want her thinking I don’t want to be intimate.”

Cassandra cleared her throat. “If you feel overwhelmed, you need to say something to Vi.”

She sighed. “She’s not going to figure it out on her own, Caitlyn. Not if you don’t tell her.”

Her tone didn’t waver. “You need to be more open with her. You’re married. That means letting her in.”

Cassandra leaned forward slightly. “Vi’s trying to understand you. But you have to give her something to work with. An actual opening. A foothold. You can’t expect someone to know all your thoughts and quirks just because you share a house.”

Then her brow arched. “Is it the sex?”

Caitlyn blinked, then stiffened. “Mother! Please!” she hissed, face burning. Her arms crossed even tighter. “It’s not the sex…”

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “You’re a grown woman, Caitlyn. Don’t act like this is scandalous. It’s sex, not treason.”

She paused, breath catching. “Maybe it is. But not—exactly. It’s more the touching. And the kissing. When we’re not… having sex.”

She shifted in her seat, shoulders taut. “The physical closeness. It’s new to me. I’m not used to it. But I can’t push her away. I can’t tell her to stop, either.”

“Is it uncomfortable?” Cassandra asked.

Caitlyn groaned. “Not really.”

“Do you not like it?”

Another groan. “It’s not like that,” Caitlyn said, flustered. “It’s just… I’m not used to the way she does it. The way she’ll suddenly kiss me, or hold onto me so tightly.”

A pause.

“But it’s not that I don’t like it. I do. I think I do.”

Cassandra smiled, too pleased. “Maybe I’ll get a grandchild soon after all.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”

Then, more carefully, “Do you actually want one now? A grandchild?”

Cassandra looked at her. “Do you not want to have a pup yet?”

Caitlyn looked away. Her voice dropped. “I’m not sure if I want one now… in the state of our marriage.”

Cassandra let out a slow breath. “Have you told Vi that?”

Caitlyn groaned again. “Not yet.”

She rubbed her temples. “I promised her we’d try when my heat starts. And we will. But if we don’t get pregnant right away…”

Her voice lowered again—quieter now, more to herself.

“I plan to ask her if it’s okay to wait. Just a little longer.”

A pause.

“Not because I don’t want a pup. I just… I need more time. I need to mean it when I say yes.”

Cassandra sighed again and groaned. “Just talk to Vi.”

She rubbed her temple. “The problem with your marriage is that you’re not actually communicating about any of this.”

Then she muttered, “I’m glad you’re both trying. And following that stupid affidavit with your new terms.” She picked up the document, waving it slightly. “But maybe you need to add a few more lines. Like… ‘We promise to actually talk to each other like grown adults.’”

Caitlyn groaned. “I am trying.”

“Then try harder,” Cassandra snapped, then sighed again. “Be more open with her. It really shouldn’t be that hard. You’ve known each other since you were in diapers, for crying out loud.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Vi’s not a stranger. You didn’t marry someone you barely knew.”

Caitlyn muttered, “We weren’t close. Not like me and Powder.”

Cassandra sat back down, looking more tired than before. “Then use this time to get closer to her. Try.”

She looked at Caitlyn pointedly. “And maybe— just maybe —you’ll realize you actually like Vi.”

Caitlyn opened her mouth to answer—right as a loud crash echoed from outside the office.

Both women jumped.

They stood and rushed out into the sitting room, only to find Vi and Tobias on the floor, clearly drunk, both trying to stand up and failing, laughing like hyenas. A broken vase lay off to the side. On the table sat their nearly empty whiskey bottle. Their glasses were drained.

Caitlyn turned to look at her mother.

Cassandra had her eyes closed, breathing slowly. In through her nose. Out through her mouth.

Caitlyn smirked.

That smirk vanished the moment her mother opened her eyes and fixed her with a look.

“Collect your wife,” Cassandra said tightly. “I’ll collect your father.”

Have you ever tried carrying a drunk person up the stairs before? A drunk, babbling person who wouldn’t stop telling you how nice you smell or how soft you feel, while stumbling every now and then.

“You smell good,” Vi mumbled, swaying into her. “Like… a flower garden, and I’m the bee.”

Caitlyn grit her teeth. “That’s not a compliment, Vi.”

Vi giggled. “No, it is. You feel nice too. All soft and... squishy.”

If Vi wasn’t Caitlyn’s wife, she would’ve just let her drop down the stairs. But she couldn’t do that now, could she? She was already in enough trouble with her parents—no need to add murder to the list.

By the time they finally reached the bedroom, Caitlyn sat Vi down on the bed with a grunt.

Vi flopped back with all the elegance of a thrown coat and spread her arms wide. “Finally! Room service.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes. She was annoyed. She’d never had to deal with Vi like this before—never had to collect her, drag her around, undress her. She hated the smell of stale alcohol, hated the way it clung to Vi’s skin and made her feel like she was babysitting. Usually, Vi was aware enough—or at least considerate enough—not to get this drunk. And when she did, she kept to the couch or her office. But they weren’t at their own house, and Caitlyn was out of options.

Shaking her head, she climbed onto the bed. One knee sank into the mattress, the other still braced on the floor. She leaned in and started undoing the buttons of Vi’s shirt.

She hated this part. Hated the slack way Vi moved beneath her hands. Hated how it made her feel like the only adult in the room.

But what she hated more—was how warm Vi’s skin still felt under her fingers.

“We’ve already had sex twice this week,” Vi slurred, watching her with a slow grin. “You trying to go for a third?”

Caitlyn didn’t blink. “I’m not. And even if I were, you wouldn’t be able to perform. Not in this state.”

Vi smirked. “We were drunk our first time. On our honeymoon. I performed just fine.”

Caitlyn scoffed. “You weren’t this drunk.”

Vi’s smirk grew. “So you do remember our honeymoon.”

A flush crawled up Caitlyn’s throat. She focused on the next button. “Of course I remember. It was my first time.”

Vi’s hands then found her waist, slow and warm. “You look beautiful,” she murmured.

Caitlyn scoffed again, voice thinner now. “You’re only saying that because you’re drunk.”

Vi shook her head lazily. “I always think you’re beautiful.”

Caitlyn leaned lower, starting on Vi’s belt. Her fingers moved, but her mind didn’t. It lagged behind—trying to catch up to whatever this was turning into.

“Want a repeat performance of the honeymoon?” Vi whispered, smiling up at her.

Caitlyn looked up. Their eyes locked—and she froze.

Vi looked flushed. Her cheeks pink. Her lips parted. Her pupils blown. And Caitlyn felt it—low and sharp and rising.

Something she would never admit out loud. Not to Vi. Not even to herself.

But looking down at Vi like this—drunk and loose-limbed and gorgeous and offering her a repeat performance of a night she remembered far too well…

She was getting aroused by all of it.

Vi’s eyes drifted shut. She breathed in through her nose, slow and deep.

Then, just as slowly, she smiled. Smirked, really.

Her eyes opened again, lazy and knowing. “Cait… do you want me to make love to you like our first time?”

Caitlyn bit her lip.

Her throat moved.

“…Yes,” she whispered.

And she hated how much she meant it.

Hated how fast her pulse jumped the second she said it out loud.

Chapter Text

Neither of them moved.

And for a second—just a beat—Caitlyn wondered if it was because they were both stunned she’d actually said yes. Like, said it out loud. Like it wasn’t just something that slipped through her teeth before she could bite it back. But then Vi wasn’t exactly reacting. No teasing comeback. No follow-through. Just that same stupid grin and a wobble in her posture.

So, no—Caitlyn was inclined to believe it wasn’t shock. Vi was just drunk.

Except… she was wrong.

Vi leaned up, slow and swaying, her hands still gripping Caitlyn’s waist like they were the only things keeping her tethered. Caitlyn didn’t move. Could’ve. Should’ve. But she didn’t.

Vi adjusted her on top of her lap, pulling her just enough so that Caitlyn was straddling her thighs.

Caitlyn exhaled, breath catching at the edges. Vi’s breath hit her collarbone, warm and uneven. Caitlyn ignored the way it made her skin prickle.

Her mind skipped—jolted backward like a stone on water—to their honeymoon.

Back then, she hadn’t known what to expect. Not really.

She was twenty-four. Married. And completely inexperienced. She’d never been kissed before Vi. Never touched. Never touched herself, either. Not out of shame or modesty—just… disinterest. She didn’t get the hype. Sex was this strange thing everyone seemed to obsess over. Her friends whispered about it, showed her photos they weren’t supposed to have. Powder had given her the play-by-play of her first time like it was a war story.

And Caitlyn? She just didn’t care. She didn’t feel left out. She didn’t feel curious. It was like everyone else had a fire she didn’t understand the heat of.

So she did what she always did when faced with the unknown.

She read.

She researched. Quietly. Alone. She studied articles about sex, looked over some pictures, read over a few surveys. Skipped everything else. Too much. She didn’t need the nitty-gritty. She just needed to know what to expect. She liked knowing what to expect.

And Vi—well, she’d known what she was doing. Caitlyn knew that going in.

She knew Vi had always been popular with the ladies. Back in university, there hadn’t been a single waking moment where someone wasn’t trying to catch Vi’s attention—lingering glances in the halls, girls hanging around her dorm room door, always someone laughing too loudly at something Vi said. It was constant, like background noise. Like weather.

And those girls were relentless.

But Caitlyn hadn’t cared. Why would she? Vi was just Powder’s older sister. They weren’t even friends. Never had been.

She hadn’t wanted to be, either.

Vi had been too much—reckless, loud, confident in that untouchable way that always felt more like a dare than a trait. She didn’t care about rules. Didn’t give a damn about decorum. Everything about her grated Caitlyn’s nerves. Everything about her disrupted the neat and orderly world Caitlyn made for herself.

They tolerated each other, at best.

Their honeymoon hadn’t changed that overnight. If anything, it had only underlined how far apart they really were. It had been stiff, awkward, silent in the wrong places. So they drank. Not to get drunk—but just enough to blur the tension. To sand down the edges between them until they stopped feeling like two mismatched puzzle pieces forced together.

It worked. It worked really well.

After a few shots of hard liquor, they started kissing on the couch—hesitant at first, then too fast. Neither of them really knew what to say, so they stopped talking. Let hands speak instead.

It all happened quickly. Quick enough for Vi to slip her fingers beneath the waistband of Caitlyn’s panties, quick enough for Caitlyn to forget to stop her.

Not like either of them were wearing much. Vi had thrown on a robe. Nothing underneath. Of course. Caitlyn, still clinging to whatever shred of modesty she had left, had kept her underwear on. Not because she was shy, exactly—just... unready. The thought of being fully naked in front of someone—even her wife—was too much.

Just… too much.

A bridge she wasn’t ready to cross.

But then her underwear was gone, and Vi was touching her.

There.

Slow. Teasing. Sure.

Fingers running gently over her slit, gliding up and down, just barely parting her folds—exploring her like something new and precious and utterly hers. Caitlyn had moaned into Vi’s mouth without meaning to, breath catching like her own body surprised her.

It had felt good.

More than good. Her nerves had lit up with every brush, every press, every slow drag of Vi’s fingertips. It made her shiver. It made her cling. It made her ache.

She hated how easy it had been. How quickly her body gave in, even when her mind hadn’t caught up.

She hadn’t expected it. Hadn’t prepared for the way her body would respond, the way it would betray every ounce of her composure. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was her own inexperience. Maybe she actually liked the feeling.

But then Vi’s lips on her neck—kissing, licking—brought her back. Her breath, warm against Caitlyn’s skin, followed by a soft whisper.

“You’re gone again,” Vi murmured. “Where do you always disappear off to?”

Vi pulled back slightly, eyes half-lidded, searching Caitlyn’s face. “Cait, I’m right here… stay with me, don’t go off living in your head.” she said, voice gentle but amused.

Caitlyn exhaled, caught somewhere between exasperation and affection.

“I just hope,” Vi added, her grin crooked, “that you were at least thinking of me while you were lost in there.”

Caitlyn smiled faintly, then shrugged, playing along. “Maybe I was.”

Vi smiled back at that—something lazy and pleased—and then lifted Caitlyn’s dress over her head. Her movements were slow, confident, practiced.

She dipped her head and bit the top of Caitlyn’s breast where it peaked above the line of her bra—gently, teasingly.

Then she started to suck at the skin as she slid the bra off, letting it fall somewhere beside them. She paused, lips brushing the curve of Caitlyn’s breast.

“You know,” Vi murmured affectionately against Caitlyn’s skin, voice soft and nostalgic, “the first time we did this, your nipples were inverted. I had to suck pretty hard to coax them out.”

Caitlyn flushed. Of course she remembered. She’d been embarrassed then, and somehow still was now—even though Vi didn’t seem to see it that way. It wasn’t teasing, just truth. And that made it worse.

Her fingers threaded through Vi’s hair. She bit her lip when Vi licked one nipple, slow and careful.

Vi’s other hand was already on her other breast—squeezing, stroking—before she sucked harder, pulling a moan from Caitlyn’s mouth. Caitlyn’s grip in her hair tightened.

Her skin felt too hot. Too exposed. Like every nerve had been rewired to the shape of Vi’s mouth.

Vi took her time with her. Every motion slow, certain, attentive. She moved between breasts, giving each one attention—sucking, teasing, twisting, fondling, groping, biting.

Caitlyn doesn’t know why—but Vi’s mouth, her tongue—felt so good. Too good.

Vi knew how to use it. How to swirl it just right, how to harden it and flick it—rhythmic, focused, relentless. How to place her nipple between her teeth and bite down—not enough to hurt, but enough that when Vi sucked after, it felt almost… soothing.

She could feel herself getting wetter. Could feel her sex throbbing. Clenching at nothing, at air—

Janna, what the hell was happening to her?

In all the years they’d been married—before the marriage even—Caitlyn had never felt this. Not like this. Not aroused, not hungry, not… wanting .

She never liked sex. Never desired it. It had always felt like something to endure, to perform, to get through. But now—

Now all she wanted was Vi on top of her. Thrusting into her. Filling her completely.

Where the hell are these thoughts coming from?

She wasn’t even the one who was drunk.

Then she felt Vi’s hand on her hip, firm and warm, tugging her forward.

“Come here,” Vi murmured, her voice rough with something low and eager. “Closer.”

As if there was anywhere else for her to go.

Caitlyn shifted, breath catching, and Vi finally released her nipple with a soft, wet sound. She glanced up at Caitlyn, eyes heavy-lidded and smiling.

“Grind on me,” she said. Like it was nothing. Like it was breathing.

Caitlyn froze.

Her brain stalled. The request hit too suddenly, too directly.

“What?” she said, blinking—already too late.

Because Vi’s hands had already found her hips again, already guiding them. Slow circles. Up and forward. Down and back.

And that’s when Caitlyn noticed it.

Vi… wasn’t hard.

Her hips stuttered. Her breath did too.

It didn’t make sense. She was soaking. She was aching. And Vi—nothing.

Caitlyn stopped grinding on Vi and looked her in the eye, raising an eyebrow.

“So,” she said, tone neutral, steady, “you’re not getting hard.”

Vi blinked, eyes still heavy-lidded, her expression unreadable.

“If you don’t want to have sex right now, that’s okay,” Caitlyn added, voice clipped but calm. “We can just sleep.”

Even as she said it, something sank low in her chest. A tight, slow knot of disappointment that surprised her.

She was soaking. And she wasn’t even in heat.

Hell, she didn’t even get this wet when she was in heat—when her body was chemically primed for it, wired for contact and release. But now… now that she actually wanted Vi, wanted this—wanted her —Vi wasn’t even hard.

Vi laughed softly, that lazy, breath-warm sound of hers, and leaned up to kiss her.

“I’m a little drunk,” she murmured against Caitlyn’s lips, grinning. “Takes me a minute when I’ve had something to drink. But don’t worry. I’ll get there.”

And then she moved. Slowly. Uncoiling like a satisfied cat.

Vi eased Caitlyn back onto the bed, fingers curling into the waistband of her panties, pulling them down with a grin that was just a little crooked, a little smug.

When she spread Caitlyn’s legs, her smile only widened.

“Fuck,” she whispered, eyes darkening. “You’re dripping.”

Caitlyn flushed instantly, thighs twitching as instinct pulled her to close them—but she stopped herself.

She’d never seen herself like this. Not this wet. Not this open. It was humiliating. It was thrilling. And the worst part? She didn’t want to hide it.

They’d done this before. Plenty of times. This wasn’t new. Not really. And it wasn’t like they hadn’t already been trying new things in their sex life.

Modesty felt ridiculous now.

Still, her heart skipped when Vi leaned down, lips brushing the inside of her thigh. Then again. And again.

Soft, slow kisses. A slow drag of tongue along her skin, working down. Lower.

Caitlyn smiled, breath catching, as Vi lifted her thighs and rested them over her shoulders. The warmth of her palms, the press of her breath. And then—

Vi parted her folds and began licking up the length of her slit.

Caitlyn’s hands flew to Vi’s hair the moment she felt it—Vi’s tongue lapping at her, slow and deep, sucking and drinking like she couldn’t get enough.

Caitlyn moaned, hips twitching.

“That feels…” she breathed, voice cracking like it had been held back too long. “That feels so good.”

Caitlyn bit her lip hard, held on to Vi’s hair harder, her fingers tightening as she grinded her hips upward—chasing more of that sensation, more of Vi’s tongue.

She was panting already, the knot in her stomach tightening with every movement.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped, voice soft and breathy, barely a whisper between moans. “Please, don’t stop.”

She felt Vi smile against her core—and then gasped when Vi’s lips closed over her clit, sucking hard, right as two fingers pushed into her.

Her walls clenched tight around them, her hips moving faster, messier. She didn’t understand herself right now—but the sensations were drowning her, flooding her, making her head feel heavy and slow, like she was the one who’d had too much to drink.

She let go of Vi’s hair, grabbed a small pillow from the bed, and moaned into it—desperate to muffle the sounds spilling from her lips as she got more and more sensitive with every thrust.

Janna, she wanted more than this. She wanted Vi to fill her completely—and she didn’t even know why.

Am I really enjoying this? she thought, somewhere in the haze. After all these years…?

Suddenly, Vi’s fingers began to move faster, snapping her out of her head.

“Oh—fuck,” Caitlyn moaned into the pillow, louder now, needier.

Vi curled her fingers deep inside her, hitting that spot again and again, her tongue never stopping, flicking back and forth over Caitlyn’s clit—relentless and perfect and too much .

She couldn’t take it.

She was going to come.

“Vi—” she whimpered, heels digging into Vi’s shoulder, one hand tangled in Vi’s hair, the other fisting the pillow, biting into it as her moans broke into gasps.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Her whole body was tight, ready to break—

“I’m—fuck, I’m coming,” she cried out, her voice breaking in the pillow, her body shaking so hard she couldn’t hold still.

“Vi…”

Vi slowed her thrusts, easing Caitlyn down from her climax slowly, steadily. Caitlyn’s breathing was still labored, her heart still racing—but she felt… full. Complete. Sated.

Then she felt Vi pull her fingers out of her. Vi leaned back into a kneeling position between Caitlyn’s thighs, and Caitlyn blinked up at her. Then she smiled—lazy, loose—and sat up, leaning forward.

Vi leaned in to kiss her, and Caitlyn met her halfway. It was deep. Warm. Slow.

But after a moment, Caitlyn pulled back, both hands cupping Vi’s face.

“Your mouth,” she said softly, “was just in places it normally isn’t supposed to be… and now you’re kissing me with it.”

Vi scoffed. “Please. I’ve kissed you before right after going down on you. Don’t tell me you’re just now getting grossed out.”

She chuckled, shaking her head.

Caitlyn smirked. “I’m not repulsed,” she said, “I’m just pointing it out.”

Vi kissed her again—quicker this time—and pulled back, her lips brushing Caitlyn’s.

“We should get some sleep,” she murmured.

Caitlyn’s brows lifted. “What about you?” she asked. “Aren’t you going to finish?”

Vi groaned, flopping backward onto the bed. “I think I had too much to drink. Can’t… get it up.”

Caitlyn chuckled as she reached over to find her panties where Vi had tossed them earlier.

“So much for ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get there,’” she teased, slipping them back on.

Vi let out a breath that was somewhere between a groan and a laugh. She rolled to her side and stretched an arm across the bed as Caitlyn lay down beside her.

Caitlyn watched her for a moment—soft, flushed, disarmed—and let herself relax.

She turned to face Vi.

“You’re okay with that?” she asked. “Not finishing?”

Vi nodded, eyes already half-lidded. “You finished. That’s what matters.” She paused. “Also… that’s the first time I’ve heard you curse.”

Caitlyn arched a brow. “What?”

Vi’s voice was starting to slur, eyes glossy with sleep, lids drooping.

“You said fuck,” she murmured. “You never say fuck. You don’t curse.”

“I do curse,” Caitlyn said, chin tilting slightly. “You’ve heard me curse.”

Vi grinned faintly. “Not in bed. Not when we’re… you know. Making love.”

Caitlyn made a small sound in her throat, her fingers idly playing with Vi’s hair.

Vi didn’t seem to notice. She pulled Caitlyn closer, buried her face in Caitlyn’s neck, and draped one leg between Caitlyn’s.

Caitlyn tensed slightly. She wanted to pull back. She hated the smell of alcohol. She wasn’t used to sleeping this close to anyone. She definitely wasn’t used to cuddling.

But even when she wanted to pull away… she didn’t.

She was tired. Her eyes were already getting heavy. After the sermon she got earlier from her mother, and Vi having her way with her tonight, she didn’t have the energy to protest.

So instead, she adjusted—hooked her leg over Vi’s thigh, let her arm drape around Vi’s waist, and whispered faintly, “Goodnight…”

Her eyes closed. Sleep pulled her under slowly.

And just as she started to drift, she heard Vi say softly—slurred and almost childlike—“Goodnight… I love you.”

Her chest tightened. Not enough to call it pain. But enough to notice.

Caitlyn’s eyes fluttered, but the words echoed. Soft. Sincere. Or maybe just drunk.

But she didn’t say anything back.

She just let herself drift away.

When Vi woke up in the morning, it felt like her head was being split in two—no, more like someone had lodged a shotgun inside her skull and was pulling the trigger again and again, each blast firing off through every nerve in her brain.

She groaned, loud and guttural, then sat up slowly—eyes squinting, stomach lurching—and tried to remember what the hell happened last night.

The last thing she remembered was drinking with her father-in-law. Fast drinking. Reckless drinking. Just kept refilling and refilling. They were talking about something—something stupid. Something funny. And then they were… doing impressions?

“Did I… do Heimerdinger again?” she mumbled to herself, voice hoarse.

She winced, massaging her temples.

Everything else was a blur—until the sound of the bathroom door pulled her out of the wreckage of her hangover.

Caitlyn walked out, towel-drying her hair, strands still dripping down her shoulders.

Vi blinked. Dripping.

And just like that, she smirked. Oh. Right. That also happened.

Her brain was fogged, but her body? Her body remembered everything.

Caitlyn’s thighs trembling. Her voice cracking. Her breath hitching just before she moaned Vi’s name. Janna, that sound—

Vi started getting hard.

She was mid-replay when Caitlyn’s voice cut in sharp and clean, slicing right through her memory.

“Vi. Take a bath. You reek of alcohol. And we’re going to be late for breakfast.”

Vi groaned again and dropped back against the headboard. “Why do we have to have breakfast? Can’t we skip it? Just this once?”

Caitlyn chuckled softly, walking toward her vanity. “You wouldn’t be protesting this much if you didn’t have a hangover.”

She glanced at Vi through the mirror, smirking faintly. “You want it to go away? Take a bath. Eat something. My mother already made her hangover tea—for you and my father.”

Vi cursed under her breath and dragged herself out of bed. Her feet hit the floor like bricks, and she staggered a bit as she made her way to the bathroom.

Caitlyn glanced down—eyes catching on Vi’s pants that she never got the chance to take off last night—and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh look,” she said, almost amused. “It’s up. When we don’t need it to be.”

Vi froze mid-step.

Wait. What?

Her head turned, slow, like maybe she’d imagined that. Caitlyn didn’t say things like that. Not ever.

She opened her mouth, still processing, and then—finally—she laughed. Loud and honest.

“You’re joking,” she said, eyes wide. “You actually made a sex joke.”

Caitlyn just shrugged, toweling her hair again.

Vi grinned, wicked. “Well, we’ve still got a little time. Maybe we could squeeze in a quickie?”

Caitlyn shook her head, lips twitching. “I’m not in the mood now.”

Vi pouted. “But—”

“Not when we have breakfast with my parents,” Caitlyn added. “I was in the mood last night, which was… rare. Too bad you couldn’t perform.”

Vi winced—not because Caitlyn was wrong, but because she wasn’t. It was rare. Caitlyn wanting her like that. Reaching for her. And she’d blown it.

She groaned, dragging her hands down her face as she shuffled toward the bathroom. “I’m never drinking that much again.”

Breakfast was annoyingly awkward.

She and her father-in-law were both under the scrutiny of Cassandra, her mother-in-law, whose silence was somehow louder than words. Cassandra didn’t say much—just gave a pointed tsk tsk as she handed Vi a mug of steaming hangover tea.

“Thanks,” Vi muttered, wincing as she took it.

Cassandra gave her a thin smile. “Drink all of it.”

Vi couldn’t look at Tobias. And Tobias, for his part, seemed deeply fascinated with the grain of the dining table. Anything to avoid his wife’s line of sight.

When Vi glanced at Caitlyn, her wife just raised an eyebrow at her—same exact judgmental tilt as her mother. Painfully identical.

Great, Vi thought. There it is. The face of all my mistakes.

Come to think of it, Cassandra and Caitlyn really did look alike. Practically clones. Only difference was the hair—Caitlyn had her father’s darker strands.

Well… at least now Vi had a pretty solid idea of what Caitlyn would look like in thirty years. Still hot. Still scary.

She sipped her tea and looked around the table, trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone. And that’s when her brain betrayed her—because suddenly, out of nowhere, she found herself wondering what their future kids would look like.

Would they have Caitlyn’s eyes? My nose? Her jaw? My temper?

Hell, no matter who they took after, she was sure of one thing: they were going to be a problem.

“No child of mine and Caitlyn’s is coming out soft,” she mumbled under her breath, chuckling to herself.

Caitlyn looked over at her. “What?”

Vi smirked, leaned in, and kissed her on the cheek. “Nothing... I was just admiring how beautiful you are.”

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes. “Vi.”

“Especially,” Vi added in a low whisper, lips just brushing Caitlyn’s ear, “when you’ve been thoroughly satisfied the night before.”

Caitlyn stiffened, then glared at her and pinched Vi’s thigh hard under the table.

“Can you please behave at the breakfast table?” she hissed through clenched teeth.

Vi chuckled again, biting her lip.

Only stopping when she caught the look Cassandra shot her from across the table—a look that made it very clear that Vi was in no position to be chuckling or flirting right now, not after the way she and Tobias had acted last night.

Vi sighed, taking another sip of tea.

Yeah. She could see it now.

Their babies would be menaces.

But breakfast finally… finally ended.

They lounged around the sitting room with some coffee—just sitting, just breathing, just letting the awkwardness bleed out in silence. Vi had kicked her shoes off and was halfway sunk into the couch when Caitlyn’s phone started ringing.

Caitlyn answered it quickly. No hesitation.

Vi watched her stand, watched her move—watched her keep moving.

She walked away, far enough that Vi couldn’t hear anything. But she could see. Caitlyn tensed, started pacing. One arm folded tightly across her chest, the other gripping the phone like it might slip from her hand.

Every so often, Caitlyn glanced over. A small smile. Brief. Then gone again. Back to the call.

Vi narrowed her eyes, shifting upright. Who the hell called Caitlyn on a Sunday? And more importantly—why would Caitlyn answer ?

Could be council work. Sure. But it didn’t feel like it.

The call ended after a couple of minutes, and Caitlyn walked back over, dropping onto the couch beside her like nothing happened.

Vi tilted her head. “So… who was that?”

Caitlyn shrugged. “Just work.”

Vi gave her a look. “That didn’t look like just work.”

Caitlyn took a sip of her coffee and set it down carefully. “I already want to go home,” she said, changing the subject. “My social battery’s shot. I need familiar territory.”

Vi scoffed, gesturing around them. “You do realize this is your childhood home, right? With your parents. This is familiar.”

Caitlyn hummed and replied, “This was my childhood home. But I’m married now. I don’t belong here anymore—I’m just visiting.”

She glanced at Vi, voice softer now. “Our house… that’s where I want to be.”

Vi didn’t respond right away. She just stared—let the words hang between them.

Caitlyn’s voice hadn’t changed. Her tone was neutral, bordering on indifferent. But the words themselves… they stuck.

Vi let them settle, let them fester—let them feed that dumb, stubborn little hope still clinging to the corners of her heart.

Maybe, she thought. Maybe Caitlyn feels something. Maybe not love—but something close.

Then she caught herself, exhaled, and shut it down.

This was exactly her problem. Hope. She kept hoping for something she didn’t even know Caitlyn could give.

She needed to stop. Stop expecting, stop reaching. Just… one step at a time. One day at a time.

Caitlyn stood and gave Vi’s thigh a quick pat. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s say goodbye.”

Vi followed her as she made her way to her parents.

Vi slipped out ahead, went to get the car.

As she pulled up in front of the main door, she caught a glimpse of Caitlyn and Cassandra exchanging a few last words. Their faces looked serious. Caitlyn nodded, and then gave her mother a kiss on the cheek.

Vi’s eyes narrowed slightly.

When Caitlyn slid into the passenger seat, Vi asked casually, “So… what’d your mom say?”

Caitlyn shrugged. “She just reminded me about some events we’re supposed to go to together.”

Vi nodded once.

But for a second… she doubted that.

Chapter Text

When they got home, Caitlyn exhaled heavily, like just leaving the house had drained her—and staying at her parents’ place had been even worse.

She looked exhausted.

Vi raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

Caitlyn started heading up the stairs. “I have to look at something for work,” she said over her shoulder. “Just for a bit.”

Vi frowned. “What’s so important at work that you have to check it on a Sunday? You never do that.”

Caitlyn shrugged, already halfway up. “It’s nothing, really.”

Vi scoffed. “If it’s nothing, why can’t it wait till tomorrow?”

Caitlyn paused at the landing, hand on the railing. She looked back down at Vi, eyes tired, shoulders dropping.

“Fine,” she said, letting out a breath. “I won’t work. Maybe I’ll just take a nap, I’m tired..”

Vi could’ve pushed. Could’ve asked again about the call, about what was really pulling Caitlyn away. But… she didn’t.

Instead, she just nodded and followed Caitlyn up to their bedroom.

And true enough, Caitlyn was getting ready for bed.

She started undressing wordlessly, then made her way to the bathroom—completely naked, like it was nothing—to wash her face and scrub off whatever makeup was still left from the day.

Vi sat on the edge of the bed and watched her disappear into the bathroom, then sighed.

“Maybe I’ll nap too,” she muttered to herself, rubbing the back of her neck.

She started undressing, leaving her boxers on, and pulled a shirt and pajama pants from the dresser—already knowing Caitlyn was going to crank the AC again like she was trying to summon a snowstorm.

When Caitlyn finally came out of the bathroom, she was wrapped in a towel. Her hair was damp, her face bare, and Vi handed her a nightgown and some underwear.

Caitlyn took them, looked down, and raised an eyebrow.

“This isn’t the right one.”

Vi blinked. “Huh?”

Caitlyn laughed softly and walked past her to the dresser. “I have a schedule,” she said, opening a drawer. “Each nightgown has its own day.”

Vi stared at her like she’d just confessed to labeling her socks, too. Who the hell schedules their sleepwear?

“You’re kidding,” she said.

“No, I’m not…” Caitlyn said, completely serious, holding up a different nightgown. She folded the nightgown Vi got and placed it back on the dresser.

Then Caitlyn hummed and said under her breath, “I guess I understand why you never noticed. My nightgowns do all look similar… only I’d know the difference.”

Vi tilted her head. “Not all of them are the same.”

Caitlyn glanced back, one brow lifting, clearly waiting for the follow-up. She already knew which one Vi meant.

Vi smirked slightly. “You’ve got that red one. You don’t wear it often.”

Caitlyn smiled, soft and just a little smug. “That one’s reserved for certain occasions.”

She turned back to the dresser, started dressing.

Vi frowned, trying to remember what occasion that might be. She could count the times she’d seen Caitlyn wear that thing—low-cut, silky, unmistakably not like the others.

“What occasions?” Vi asked, narrowing her eyes.

Caitlyn turned halfway, adjusting a strap. “I wear it when I’m in heat,” she said simply. “When I’m expecting we’ll be having sex.”

Vi blinked.

Caitlyn walked toward the bed.

Vi scoffed. “You have a nightgown just for when we’re gonna have sex?”

Caitlyn laughed as she climbed onto the bed. “It’s what’s on the schedule.”

Vi stared at her for a beat, then furrowed her brows, thinking back— had it always been that nightgown?

Yeah. It probably had.

Then she blinked again, the question slipping out before she could stop herself.

“Wait… do you schedule all your clothes?”

Caitlyn paused mid-pillow fluff and looked over at her.

“Yes,” she said. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?” Vi asked, squinting at her. “What does that even mean?”

Caitlyn just shrugged. “I have certain clothes I like to wear on certain days. Or for certain occasions. That’s it.”

Vi opened her mouth to say something, then shut it again. There was no point analyzing that piece of information. There are things about her wife that she simply can’t explain either, maybe Caitlyn was just built that way.

Caitlyn turned, adjusted her pillow. “Are you gonna nap too?”

Vi shrugged. “Yeah. Might as well, I have nothing else to do.”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “It’s only 1:45 PM. Why are you going to sleep?”

Vi laughed, tossing her pajama pants onto the chair. “That’s rich coming from you. You’re about to nap too.”

“I’m exhausted,” Caitlyn said plainly, as if that was explanation enough.

Vi grinned as she climbed into bed. “Well, I’m exhausted too.”

She slid under the sheets and stayed on her side of the bed, settling stiffly into place, eyes fixed on the ceiling. The room was quiet. Too quiet. Awkward even.

Caitlyn was on her side of the bed too, back turned, blanket up to her shoulders.

Vi let out a slow breath.

Apparently loud enough, because Caitlyn’s voice came, dry and muffled. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Vi said, too quickly.

But it wasn’t nothing. It was just—she wanted to touch her. She wanted to pull Caitlyn close and wrap her arms around her. But asking felt weird and she didn’t want things to start getting weird between them, they were already doing so well with their marriage. At least, Vi thinks so.

She sighed again.

This time Caitlyn shifted slightly. “If you’ve got something to say, just say it,” she muttered. “Sighing is not a form of communication that I understand.”

Vi groaned, rolled toward her, and slowly inched across the mattress. “Can I… hold you? While we sleep? Like… a cuddle?”

There was a pause. Then a whisper. “Sure.”

Vi moved in, careful and slow. One arm slid beneath Caitlyn’s head, letting her use it as a pillow. The other slipped under Caitlyn’s nightgown, settling across her stomach, palm splayed over warm, bare skin.

Caitlyn’s voice was quiet. Not cold. Just tired. “I’m… really tired. I don’t think I can have sex right now.”

Vi scoffed gently, her breath catching at Caitlyn’s nape. “Not everything’s about sex,” she muttered. “I just wanna be close to you. That’s all.”

She felt Caitlyn stiffen, just a little. But she didn’t pull away.

She only whispered, “You’re warm.”

Vi didn’t know what that meant.

She wanted it to mean something. Maybe it did. Or maybe it was just what it was, a fact.

But whatever Caitlyn meant by it, Vi didn’t move, she stayed right where she was, just holding Caitlyn close, and wondering why she didn’t ask to do this sooner… Maybe if she had, maybe things wouldn’t be so difficult between them.

She sighed again, and pressed her body closer to Caitlyn’s and closed her eyes.

Caitlyn woke up warm—something she didn’t like.

She hated sleeping when it was hot. That’s why they’d installed the air conditioning unit in the first place. But this warmth… it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

When she opened her eyes, she realized she was already facing Vi. Their bodies pressed close. Her head was still resting on Vi’s arm, Vi’s other arm draped around her waist, hand resting on her back, keeping her there. Vi’s leg was slotted between her thighs like they’d always slept that way.

It was warm… and it was okay. It was fine.

She didn’t dislike it. She didn’t hate it. But she wasn’t sure she liked it either.

Slowly, she began to peel herself out of Vi’s embrace, careful not to disturb her—but it didn’t work. Vi stirred.

“Where’re you going?” Vi’s voice was low, thick with sleep.

“I’m awake now,” Caitlyn whispered. “I’m going to make coffee.”

Vi hummed something unintelligible and burrowed deeper into the sheets.

“You can keep sleeping if you want,” Caitlyn added, glancing at her phone. “It’s just five. You’ve got time.”

She reached up and brushed a few strands of hair out of Vi’s face. It wasn’t planned. She just… did it.

Vi mumbled again and rolled slightly.

Caitlyn pulled a pillow from behind her and gently placed it in front of Vi.

“There,” she murmured. “Something to hold onto.”

She placed it there without really thinking. Then paused. It felt… strange, somehow. Too tender. Too familiar.

But Vi instinctively wrapped her arms around the pillow and drifted back into sleep without a word.

Caitlyn let herself stare at Vi, sleeping peacefully before she slipped out of bed, carefully, quietly.

But instead of heading to the kitchen like she told Vi, she walked straight to her office, closed the door behind her, and opened her laptop.

The files from her investigator were already there, flagged in the inbox.

She hadn’t had a chance to check them earlier—not with Vi getting all worked up about her working on a Sunday. And truthfully, she hadn’t wanted to fight. Things had actually been peaceful between them, and she wanted to keep it that way. At least for now.

Still, she hadn’t expected the call earlier. But she was hoping the files that the investigator sent would shed some light in this whole mess… She wanted so badly to move past this issue. 

The investigator had told her earlier over the phone that he got the dossiers Caitlyn had asked for.

She’d asked for a few. A quiet collection of individuals she could connect—directly or indirectly—with either her or Vi. Sarah Fortune had been at the top of her list.

And yet, even on paper, Sarah didn’t make sense.

“She was Vi’s mistress,” Caitlyn muttered under her breath, pulling the file open on her screen. “Why would she even…”

Sending photos to the wife? It was stupid. Incriminating. And if her name was ever tied to the scandal, Sarah’s reputation would take the hit. Not Caitlyn’s. Why take that risk?

“Unless she doesn’t care.” Caitlyn frowned. But Sarah does care. “She has to. She’s a businesswoman—her entire brand revolves around her image.”

She tapped the edge of her desk, scrolling through the file, eyes scanning but not really reading.

As far as Caitlyn knew, no one else even knew about the affair. Not outside their immediate circle. So that left a simple, ugly question: who stood to gain from Caitlyn divorcing Vi?

It wasn’t easy to answer. Not because the list was long.

But because it was nearly nonexistent.

Vi and Caitlyn—individually—had always been self-contained. Her work as a councilor had no overlap with Vi’s operations in Zaun. And vice versa.

Together? That was different.

As a couple, they held weight. She came from the oldest noble line in Piltover. Vi, from one of the most respected families in Zaun. They had clout, but they hadn’t used it to consolidate control. Their projects had been more philanthropic than political. More about uniting fractured factions than gaining leverage.

Schools. Clinics. Infrastructure. None of it screamed threat.

So… who would hate them enough to do this?

She sat back slightly, staring at the flickering cursor on her screen. Separately, she couldn’t think of a single name. Sure, there were councilors she didn’t get along with—but no one she’d call an enemy.

Frenemies, maybe. Political sparring partners. The occasional contrarian.

But not saboteurs.

And Vi?

Well… Caitlyn couldn’t ask Vi directly. Not yet, anyway. Not without risking the fragile balance they’d finally begun to rebuild. So instead, she’d asked the investigator to dig. Quietly. Thoroughly.

Her eyes dropped back to the screen. The images bothered her. And not for the reasons they probably should have.

Not because they made her jealous. Not even because they made her angry.

What got under her skin—what kept circling in her mind—was the angle. The intention .

What did the person who sent them want?

At most, the fallout would be a divorce. If the photos ever went public, Vi’s reputation would take a hit. Maybe her credibility in Zaun would take a blow. But Caitlyn? She’d survive it. Her family name would buffer the damage. She had support in the council. Sympathy, even. After all, she would be the wife who had been cheated on and made to look like a fool.

No… the longer she looked at it, the clearer it became.

She wasn’t the target.

Caitlyn leaned back in her chair, brow furrowed, fingers steepled loosely in front of her lips.

They weren’t trying to ruin me. They were aiming for Vi.

She didn’t know why that made her chest tighten. It shouldn’t have. But it did.

She looked over the other dossiers. Most of them were people from the council, but no one really stood out.

Everyone had their own agendas, sure, but she highly doubted any of them had a reason to go after Vi.

Vi’s business brought Piltover a steady flow of profit. Trade routes, merchant taxes, supply lines—it all passed through Piltover’s ports, and the council liked that. Even the ones who didn’t like Vi personally liked her money.

Caitlyn exhaled and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She was starting to get a headache.

Then her eyes caught one of the folders near the bottom of the list on her screen.

Mishel Ferros.

Right.

Come to think of it… Mishel had been looking for her a few days ago. She hadn’t gotten the chance to ask what it was about—she’d been too busy, and he hadn’t been around the council building lately either.

She could just wait and talk to him tomorrow when she went in. But…

Better to ask now. Otherwise she’d keep thinking about it, and the last thing she needed was another question spiraling in her head.

She picked up her phone and scrolled through her contacts until she found his number. She hit dial.

The phone rang twice before Mishel’s voice came through, chipper and surprised.

“Councilor Kiramman! Wow, I wasn’t expecting a call from you.”

Caitlyn chuckled lightly. “I figured you weren’t. I’ve just been swamped the past week. Didn’t get a chance to ask why you were looking for me—with Powder, no less.”

There was a pause on the other end.

A little too long.

Then Mishel’s voice came back, softer now. “Ah. That. No, nothing urgent. I was just… checking in. I saw what the tabloids have been saying. Thought you might want someone to talk to.”

Caitlyn smiled, even if no one could see it. “That’s thoughtful of you. But there’s nothing to worry about, really. It’s just gossip. My relationship with Vi is… fine.”

Another pause.

Then Mishel asked, slower this time, “So you and Vi… aren’t divorcing?”

Caitlyn blinked, then shook her head even though she knew he couldn’t see her. “No. We’re not.”

There was another beat of silence. And then Mishel said, “Well. That’s good to hear.”

It didn’t sound good.

It sounded forced.

Caitlyn didn’t call it out. Not over the phone. But it was enough to send a small ripple of suspicion through her chest.

She let out a quiet chuckle and said lightly, “Still, I appreciate the concern. Actually—are you free for coffee tomorrow? I’d love to catch up.”

There was a brief, startled sputter on the line.

“Uh—yes, yes, of course. Coffee. That sounds nice.”

“Great,” Caitlyn said, already moving toward her calendar. “I’ll be at the council building around ten. I can meet you for our coffee date after I settle—”

She didn’t get to finish.

The door creaked open.

Vi stood there, hair a mess, shirt wrinkled, looking half-asleep and mildly annoyed.

Caitlyn looked at Vi, smiled lightly, and brought the phone back to her ear. “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” she said. “I have to go.”

She ended the call and set her phone down.

The moment it hit the table, Vi’s brows drew together.

“Who was that?” she asked, voice flat but edged.

Caitlyn stood up and began powering down her laptop. “Mishel.”

Vi blinked. “Mishel Ferros?”

Caitlyn nodded. “Yes. I’m meeting him tomorrow for coffee.”

She hadn’t even finished the sentence when Vi scoffed under her breath.

“For what?” Vi asked. “Work?”

Caitlyn paused. “Not exactly.”

Vi’s mouth opened—then shut. She looked… annoyed. No, not just annoyed. There was something sharper under the surface.

“So if it’s not for work,” Vi said slowly, “why the hell are you meeting with him for a coffee date?”

Caitlyn let out a dry laugh, not amused. She could feel the headache already blooming behind her eyes.

She didn’t want to lie. Not outright. But she wasn’t about to blurt out, I’m investigating the person who sent me photos of you cheating on me and Mishel’s name is on a list of potential suspects. That wasn’t happening.

So instead, she crossed her arms and said, “Am I not allowed to have friends outside of our marriage?”

Vi bit her lip and looked away for half a second. “Of course you’re allowed to have friends. Just not…”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “Just not what?”

Vi didn’t answer. She just stared at her like Caitlyn was supposed to know.

Caitlyn felt something flicker—frustration, maybe. Fatigue. She was already frayed from yesterday, enduring her mother’s thinly veiled disappointments. And earlier, she’d had to stop herself from working on these dossiers just to avoid setting Vi off. She was trying. But her patience was thinning.

She stepped forward, arms still folded across her chest.

“Which is it, Vi?” she asked, voice sharper now. “Just not Mishel? Or just not anyone who’s attractive, successful, and capable of sweeping me off my feet?”

She hated how bitter that sounded. Like it meant something. Like part of her had actually thought about it.

Vi’s jaw tensed. A flicker of something—hurt? pride?—crossed her face, but she said nothing. Just turned and started to leave.

Caitlyn sighed, louder than she meant to. “Just because you had it in you to be with someone else doesn’t mean I do.”

Vi stopped but didn’t turn around.

“I’m not that petty,” Caitlyn said, softer now. “And I don’t have it in me to like someone else when I can barely figure out what I should say and how I should act around you.”

She didn’t wait for a response.

She walked past Vi, out of the room, and made her way back to their bedroom—closing the door behind her with more care than the moment deserved.

Vi sighed, stood there in the doorway of Caitlyn’s office, her hand still curled loosely around the doorframe, and cursed under her breath.

Janna, she hated herself right now. Hated how she’d reacted. Hated how it all came out—tight, sharp, like a splinter she couldn’t pull clean.

Why the hell did she say coffee date? Vi raked a hand through her hair. And why the hell did I react like that?

She was mad, sure—but not just at Caitlyn. More at herself. At the fact that it all still got to her. That Caitlyn still got to her.

And yet… she couldn’t shake the way Caitlyn had looked at her. Cool. Dismissive. Like Vi was being dramatic for asking why her wife was setting up coffee with a man who’d been orbiting her for years.

She rubbed her face, dragging her palm down over her mouth. “Couldn’t she just tell that I was jealous?” she muttered, more to herself than anyone. “For fuck’s sake.”

Was she really that hard to read? Or was Caitlyn just choosing not to?

Did everything have to be spelled out? Did Caitlyn really need it delivered in bullet points? Was it only her Caitlyn couldn’t read? Because she sure as hell didn’t have this problem with anyone else. She handled Powder just fine. She knew how to play politics with the council like it was second nature.

But when it came to Vi—just Vi—it was like Caitlyn didn’t know how to read the room. Or refused to try.

She exhaled again, hard. She didn’t want to fight. Didn’t want another fucking argument. She just—how was she supposed to say it? Hey, I don’t want you seeing Mishel because I know he’s been in love with you since university and I don’t trust how easy it is for you to smile when you talk to him.

Yeah. That’d go over great.

But still… what of it?

So what if Mishel liked her?

Caitlyn was still married to Vi.

Caitlyn was loyal.

Caitlyn didn’t jump ship just because something looked shinier, easier, newer. That wasn’t who she was. She wasn’t like Vi.

She made that pretty fucking clear.

And Vi’s stomach twisted because it was true.

That was the worst part, wasn’t it? That Caitlyn had said it like it was a fact. Like it wasn’t even meant to hurt—it just was . Like Vi’s infidelity was a math equation she’d solved and filed away. Simple. Obvious.

No matter what Vi did—no matter how hard she tried—that truth was going to hang over them. Permanent. Stamped across every good day like a watermark. A reminder.

Yeah, Vi thought bitterly. Maybe I am scared of the ghosts I made.

Maybe she was scared Caitlyn would wake up one morning and realize she deserved better. Maybe she’d realize someone like Mishel—someone shiny, safe, uncomplicated—made more sense.

What if Vi wasn’t enough?

Not then. Not now. Not ever?

And maybe Vi didn’t have it in her to face that. Not now. Not when things were starting to feel like a real marriage. Not when Caitlyn was smiling more. Touching her more. Looking at her like maybe, maybe , there was something left to rebuild.

Not when I’m falling for her again.

Vi stood there a second longer, then turned and walked out of Caitlyn’s office. Her steps were slower now. Quieter. Like maybe if she walked softer, this wouldn’t feel like such a loss already.

She made her way to their bedroom. Hand on the doorknob. Turned it gently.

Caitlyn wasn’t on the bed.

Vi’s chest tightened. She was about to knock on the bathroom door when she heard it.

A small sound. Barely audible. A breath caught where it shouldn’t have been.

Sniffles.

Caitlyn was crying.

Vi’s stomach dropped, and guilt hit her like a body blow.

“Shit,” she whispered, forehead pressing lightly against the bathroom door.

She didn’t knock.

Didn’t say anything.

She just stood there for a second—hating herself.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn stayed in the bathroom longer than she needed or wanted to—longer than was reasonable, maybe. The lights were too bright, her own reflection too sharp, and the silence, save for her sniffles, pressed down on her like it intended to suffocate her. She sat on the edge of the tub, head in her hands, and cried.

Not loud. Not messy.

Just quiet, exhausted tears sliding down cheeks she hadn’t realized were already wet.

It was too much. All of it.

Her chest rose and fell in tight, shallow pulls as if even breathing had started requiring effort. She felt stretched thin, overstimulated by the sheer volume of things clawing for her attention. Her job. Her parents. Her marriage. The damn investigation. It wasn’t just one thing—it was everything , piled on top of her, and it was getting harder and harder to keep herself steady.

And Vi.

This—whatever they were doing—rebooting their marriage, jumpstarting it like a dead battery in a too old car that hasn’t been driven in years—was a whole other world of pressure.

She was trying. Janna, she was trying. She’d let Vi touch her. She'd touched back. Let herself feel things she wasn’t used to feeling, let herself want in a way that was still new and strange and not entirely comfortable. It felt good—sometimes too good—but it still didn't come easy. Not naturally. Not the way it seemed to for Vi. It wasn’t like she had an impulse to just lean in and kiss Vi or wrap her hands around her and bury her face in her neck.

And while Caitlyn was still working her way to reach that level of intimacy with her spouse, still working up the nerve to admit she even liked it… she had council work stacked on her desk, law briefings in her inbox, people expecting her to smile through interviews and be polite during council hearings and act like her whole life wasn’t tangled like wired headphones, with no easy way to untangle them without accidentally breaking the damn thing.

Then her mother had just given her a sermon she’d already heard before but hurt just the same. Her marriage was under surveillance from every direction—Cassandra’s judgment, the tabloids, her own doubts.

And now, as if her balance hadn’t already been fragile, Vi had the audacity to get upset over coffee with Mishel . A stupid, casual, harmless cup of coffee.

She made a sound, almost a laugh but not quite—tight, breathy, bitter.

Why did that even bother her?

They were married. And she had no plans of changing her marital status anytime soon.

Caitlyn wasn’t sneaking off to meet a stranger in some dark alley. Mishel was a colleague. A childhood friend. Someone who had sat next to her at council meetings and passed her boring notes in academy seminars. She wasn’t going there to flirt or confess some secret fantasy.

She needed intel. She needed to rule out Mishel as a suspect. Not that there was much to suspect, just that hesitation in his voice earlier. But at this point, Caitlyn was going to suspect anyone and everyone until she gets to the bottom of whatever or whoever was behind those photos.

Just a conversation, that was all it was for her.. Just a setup so Caitlyn could ask questions without tipping her hand. And Vi had turned it into something else. Something it wasn't .

What was Vi scared of? That Caitlyn was using coffee as an excuse to meet with a lover she doesn’t have?

She blinked a few times, realizing that maybe… maybe that was it. Maybe Vi was getting upset because she thinks Caitlyn was cheating on her or would cheat on her.

Caitlyn scoffed at the thought. 

Why would she cheat or take on a new lover when she can barely keep Vi happy. Besides, cheating takes a lot of time and effort. Effort that she’d rather put into fixing her marriage.

Did Vi really think she’d do that though? That she would take on a lover?

Her jaw tightened. She hadn’t realized she was clenching it until the muscle twitched.

It shouldn’t sting that Vi thought so little of her. But it did, for a second. Before she buried it with everything else.

Caitlyn pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes again, hard. Saw stars behind her lids. Tried to breathe. Tried to find the calm place in her head that had always kept her anchored—but it felt frayed. Distant. Like even that part of her was starting to break down.

She hated this—this crying. It made her feel small. Like a child. Like someone who had no business being in charge of anything, let alone a marriage. Let alone this marriage.

Tears weren’t solutions. They never had been.

They didn’t fix what was broken between her and Vi. They didn’t find whoever sent those photos. And they definitely didn’t silence or stop the gossipers either.

She let out one last breath—long and shaky—and then stood up too fast. Her legs wobbled slightly. She steadied herself against the counter.

Cold water. That would help.

She washed her face with water that stung with how cold it was. She wanted it to sting. She needed the clarity that came with discomfort. A clean, sharp reset.

Then she tried her best to compose herself and left the bathroom without looking back.

The bedroom was empty. Vi wasn’t there. Probably downstairs cooling off.

Good.

The less she saw her right now, the better she’d feel.

She crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, hands braced on either side like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to lie down or run. Then she slowly climbed beneath the covers, turned the air conditioning down to the lowest setting—wanted to freeze the whole room if she could—and burrowed under the duvet like it could shield her from everything.

She curled in on herself.

Closed her eyes.

And tried not to think.

It was that time of the year again. The season Caitlyn dreaded more than any other—summer. With its angry sun and sweaty afternoons and five long days of what could only be described, in her mind, as slow, suffocating torture.

Summer meant the beach.

And Caitlyn, ten years old and sunburn-prone, hated the beach.

Not because her parents were strict or hated the ocean or made her sit in the shade while everyone else had fun. No, it wasn’t anything like that. They wanted her to enjoy it—they assumed she would. Everyone else did. That was the problem. The expectation of fun. The way her mother smiled and said “Isn’t this lovely, darling?” while Caitlyn’s scalp baked under the sun and her toes burned on sand that never stopped getting into everything. She wasn’t being punished. She was just… miserable, and no one seemed to notice that was its own kind of punishment.

She preferred snow, clean and quiet and soft underfoot. A blanket of white she could walk through without burning the soles of her feet. Snowy mountain retreats made sense to her. The beach did not.

But she didn’t have a choice.

She never did.

Every summer, without fail, the whole family packed up and went on this week-long coastal expedition. And they never went alone. No, it was always them plus three—Uncle Vander, and his kids: Violet, who was eleven and impossible, and Powder, who was four and adorable.

Apparently, there was a system to it. A deal. A mutual agreement between adults.

Summer belonged to the beach, because Violet and Powder loved it. And winter was reserved for snow-covered mountains, so Caitlyn could have her turn. A compromise. A peace treaty. One Caitlyn never signed, but had to live with anyway.

She hated it. But she went. She didn’t complain out loud—not often. Not really. She understood fairness. She just didn’t think fairness always had to involve sunburn and sand in her socks and putting up with Violet. Ugh.

It didn’t matter that they did this every year. Violet never changed. She was loud—always too loud—and ran like she was fueled by chocolate and sugar. She was annoying, running back and forth from the sand to the water, shouting Caitlyn’s name like it was an emergency, even when it wasn’t.

She didn’t think of Violet as a friend. Not even close. They were… cousins by proximity. Vacation acquaintances. Just a loud, annoying girl she had to tolerate.

Caitlyn would rather play with Powder instead, which she often did anyway. Playing with Powder was peaceful and nice and didn’t entail having to deal with the loud yelling and the running around like an excited puppy. No. Powder was behaved and tame. Unlike her older sister.

She didn’t care what Violet was doing as long as she was left alone. She just wanted to build her sandcastle. A good one. With proper turrets and walls that didn’t crumble the second someone walked by too close. That was her plan for the day.

She smoothed one side of the castle wall with the edge of her palm, slow and careful, like symmetry could silence the noise behind her. If she could just keep the lines straight—keep the towers even—maybe the rest of the day wouldn’t fall apart.

But then again, even at ten, Caitlyn was already beginning to understand that life was never that easy.

As per usual, Violet was already being a menace. But only to Caitlyn. She was only ever a menace to Caitlyn and no one else.

Violet came running toward her, yelling loud enough for the entire beach to hear, “Caitlyn! Cait! Look what I found!”

Caitlyn glanced up from her sandcastle, one eyebrow already twitching in mild dread. “What now?” she muttered, too quiet for Violet to hear.

Violet skidded to a stop beside her and proudly held out both hands, overflowing with seashells. “I got these for you,” she beamed. “You can put them on your castle.”

Caitlyn stared at the shells. Some were chipped. Most were sandy and uneven.

“I don’t want seashells on my castle,” she said flatly. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Violet’s face scrunched, her excitement faltering. “But they’ll make it pretty,” she insisted. “Look—this one’s shaped like a little swirl! And this one kinda looks like a crown.”

Caitlyn sighed, barely above a whisper. “I don’t want a pretty castle.”

But Violet wasn’t listening anymore.

She was already crouching beside the castle, jabbing shells into the towers like it was her masterpiece too. “I’m putting this one here—it’s like a door knocker,” she said. “And these three go here, for defense. Like, sea magic. It protects the princess inside.”

Caitlyn blinked slowly. “That’s not—” She stopped. It didn’t matter.

Those seashells weren’t going to make her castle any sturdier. They were just going to mess up the walls she’d spent twenty minutes shaping with the side of her hand.

She huffed quietly, stood up, and started brushing sand off her knees.

“Hey!” Violet called after her. “Where are you going?”

Caitlyn shrugged. “I don’t want to build a castle anymore.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s getting hot,” she said, already walking away. “I don’t want to get sunburned.”

Behind her, Violet sat back on her heels, frowning down at the mess of half-buried shells. “But… I was just trying to help.”

Caitlyn didn’t respond. She didn’t look back. The castle was unfinished behind her, and she didn’t care. Not really. Or at least, that’s what she told herself as she walked toward the shade.

Later that afternoon, when the sky wasn’t so bright anymore and the sun wasn’t trying to burn her alive, Caitlyn walked back down to the beach.

Where her sandcastle had been that morning—there was almost nothing left.

The towers were gone. The walls were collapsed. What remained was lopsided and sinking, the edges soft and collapsing into themselves as the waves rose higher with each push of the tide.

She stood there, just watching it crumble.

Then she felt a tiny hand slip into hers.

Powder, quiet as always, had appeared at her side. She looked up with wide eyes and asked, “No more castle?”

Caitlyn didn’t look down, but she gave a small sigh. “Sandcastles don’t stand a chance against waves,” she said softly. “Especially not castles that were built to just look pretty.”

There was a long pause.

Then, from behind her, she heard a familiar sigh—loud and heavy.

She glanced back.

Violet was standing a few feet away, dragging a stick through the sand. She didn’t look at Caitlyn when she spoke, just kept poking at the sand. “Making a castle pretty doesn’t mean it isn’t strong,” she muttered. “But even strong ones break when the waves are big… and no one’s there to protect them.”

Caitlyn opened her mouth—then closed it again.

What was there to say?

She just turned back toward the sea and watched in silence as the waves kept coming, slow and steady, taking the last of the castle with them.

Caitlyn woke up, slowly blinking her eyes as she felt the last of her dream fade away.

The door creaked open a moment later, and Vi stepped inside.

She crossed the room quietly and sat on the edge of the bed, gentle as ever, placing a hand on Caitlyn’s waist above the bed covers.

“Hey,” Vi said softly. “Dinner’s ready.”

Caitlyn exhaled—deep, quiet, tired—and rolled over to her other side, facing away from her. “I’m not hungry.”

Vi let out a sigh of her own, not annoyed—just worn. “You haven’t eaten since breakfast,” she said, her voice patient but tired. “That was back at the mansion. It’s already late, Cait.”

“I know,” Caitlyn murmured, barely audible. “I just… I really don’t want anything right now.”

There was a pause.

Then the mattress shifted again—Vi lay down beside her, slow, careful not to startle. Caitlyn felt the covers lift behind her, then Vi’s body settling close, warm and quiet.

An arm wrapped softly around Caitlyn’s waist.

Vi didn’t say anything at first. She just let her breath settle near the nape of Caitlyn’s neck, then leaned in and kissed her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Vi whispered.

Caitlyn didn’t answer. She didn’t pull away either.

Vi let the words hang between them, suspended in the dim quiet, and gently, she pulled Caitlyn closer, pressing their bodies together beneath the covers.

Caitlyn didn’t say anything right away. Her fingers fidgeted slightly against the blanket. Then, softly—almost too soft to catch—she murmured, “You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.”

Vi’s throat tightened. “I do,” she said quickly—too quickly.

Caitlyn turned in her arms, shifting to face her fully. Her eyes searched Vi’s—quiet, calm, a little hollow around the edges. “Then what are you sorry for?” she asked.

Vi swallowed. “I’m sorry for how I reacted,” she said, voice low. “I shouldn’t have gotten that pissed.”

She rubbed at the back of her neck, avoiding Caitlyn’s eyes for half a beat. “Maybe it was just—” She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d just woken up.”

Caitlyn’s expression didn’t shift much, but her voice did—cooler now. “That wasn’t it,” she said. “Don’t lie.”

Vi sighed, her frustration slipping out with the breath. She ran a hand down her face, then muttered, “I was jealous, okay?”

Her gaze flicked up, guarded. “Wasn’t that obvious to you already?”

Caitlyn exhaled slowly. “Of course it was obvious. I know you were jealous.” Her brows furrowed slightly, mouth tightening—not annoyed, just confused. “What I don’t understand is why.”

That caught Vi off guard. Her jaw opened, then shut. “I—” she started, but the words stalled.

“I mean,” Caitlyn continued, her voice measured but not cruel, “we’re married. You already have me. We live in the same house, sleep on the same bed. Why would you be jealous just because I’m having coffee with someone else?”

Vi scoffed, the sound dry and bitter. “Because marriage isn’t a guarantee,” she said. “You could still decide you want someone else.”

She hesitated—just a second—and then added, “Especially since… we’re not mates. We’re just married.”

She didn’t expect Caitlyn’s reaction to land as hard as it did. But she saw it.

The flinch. The way Caitlyn’s brows pulled together. The small, sharp twitch of her jaw.

Then Caitlyn looked right at her—calm, somehow too calm—and said, “So you think the only way someone can be loyal, the only way someone can love you, is if they’re biologically forced to?”

Vi stammered, trying to speak, to explain—“That’s not what I meant—” she managed, but Caitlyn didn’t pause. Didn’t blink.

“But you know what? You’re right,” Caitlyn cut in, voice quiet but steely. “Marriage isn’t a guarantee.”

She exhaled sharply, eyes fixed on the wall behind Vi. “That’s been obvious for a while now. I mean—” her voice cracked just slightly before she caught it. “You had a mistress for a year.”

Vi winced. She opened her mouth again, but Caitlyn kept going.

“But I’m not like you,” she said, voice flat now. “I don’t need to be mated. I don’t need to be claimed to be loyal or faithful.”

Vi scoffed again—too fast, too defensive. “The only reason you’re loyal or faithful is because you see love and relationships like a chore,” she snapped. “And you’re just too lazy to deal with it.”

The moment the words left her mouth, she wanted to drag them back.

Caitlyn pulled away—slow, stiff—and Vi saw the shift immediately. The sharp lift of her chin. The flash in her eyes. She looked… furious. But worse, hurt.

Shit.

“Cait—” Vi started, reaching out, but Caitlyn was already peeling the blanket off, throwing it aside and standing up.

She moved to the far side of the room, arms wrapped tightly over her chest, her jaw clenched.

“Let me just make one thing clear,” Caitlyn said, voice brittle. “Just one thing.”

Vi sat up, frozen.

“I don’t see our marriage as a chore. And I’m not too lazy for it either.”

Her voice was shaking now—not loud, but trembling with all the things she clearly didn’t say often.

“Because I’ve been trying. Trying so fucking hard to take myself out of what I’m comfortable with—what I’m safe with—because I wanted to make this work.”

Vi’s breath caught. She could feel every word like a punch to the ribs.

Caitlyn looked at her then—eyes sharp, rimmed with red. “In all the years we’ve been together… do you really think no one’s ever tried to make a pass at me?”

Vi blinked.

“Do you think no one’s ever tried to swoop in with pretty words and easy promises?” Caitlyn’s voice was rising now, finally breaking through the restraint. “You think people haven’t tried?”

Her arms tightened around herself. “There were plenty. Younger. Older. Richer. But not once—” her voice cracked again, but this time she didn’t stop—“not once did I think of leaving you.”

Vi sat there, silent, throat tight.

“Not once did I think of cheating. Or walking away. Or filing for divorce.”

A tear slipped down Caitlyn’s cheek. She didn’t wipe it. Just let it sit there, raw and exposed.

“I chose you, Vi. I chose to stay.”

She swallowed hard.

“Even when I didn’t know why. Even when this marriage didn’t feel like a marriage. Even when I wasn’t happy.”

She finally wiped her face, angry at the tears, maybe angry at herself. “I don’t need some biological mark to keep me faithful.”

Then she looked right at Vi—really looked at her—and her next words came out low, final.

“But if that’s the only thing keeping you from straying again… if a bite is the only thing that makes you loyal… then maybe divorce really is what we need.”

Vi opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

She wanted to say something. Anything. But all the words felt too small—and way too late.

“Because I don’t think I can stay married to someone who can’t decide, on her own, to be faithful to her wife.”

Caitlyn walked out of their bedroom, finally slamming the door behind her with a finality she’d never felt so strongly before.

She didn’t even bother wiping her tears. She didn’t slow down. Just kept walking—bare feet cold on the floor, her jaw tight, her vision swimming.

She stepped into her office, shut the door, and crossed to her desk with sharp, controlled movements.

Her hand hovered for a second over the phone—just long enough to feel herself hesitate. Then she picked it up, dialed the number, and pressed the receiver to her ear.

It rang once. Twice.

When Mel finally picked up, Caitlyn swallowed the lump in her throat and kept her voice steady.

“Get the divorce papers ready,” she said. “I’m going to sign them.”

There was a pause on the other end—Mel maybe about to speak—but Caitlyn had already pulled the phone away and set it down gently on the desk.

Her eyes burned, but she didn’t cry. Not again.

All she could think about—looping like a cruel, slow film reel—was that sand castle from when she was ten. The one she’d built carefully, quietly, far from the others. The one Vi had touched without asking.

And how she’d just stood there and watched it collapse. Eaten by the waves. Slow at first. Then all at once.

Her marriage, she realized, wasn’t so different.

Chapter Text

It was hours later when Caitlyn finally came out of her office.

Vi was sitting on the floor outside the door, legs pulled in, back against the wall—just waiting. She’d been there so long her shoulders ached and her neck felt stiff, but she didn’t move. Not when she heard Caitlyn pacing inside. Not when it went silent.

When the door creaked open, Vi stood up immediately, heart thudding louder than it should.

Caitlyn stepped out. Her face was blotchy, her eyes red—but dry. She didn’t flinch when she saw Vi, didn’t even hesitate. She just looked at her. And that look alone told Vi everything.

She was exhausted. Not just tired—but done.

Vi opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

So she followed. Quietly. Like a shadow trailing behind a storm that hadn’t finished passing.

Caitlyn walked into their bedroom, straight to the closet, and Vi felt the alarm in her chest flare the second she saw the luggage come out.

Her voice cracked as she rushed forward. “Wait—what are you doing?”

Caitlyn didn’t look at her. She was pulling clothes off hangers, folding them with mechanical efficiency.

“Just taking a few things,” she said flatly. “I’m staying somewhere else tonight.”

Vi blinked. “What? Why? Where are you even gonna go?”

Caitlyn zipped the bag halfway. “We have properties around Piltover,” she said, still not looking at her. “I’ll pick one.”

Vi moved closer, her breath catching. “You don’t have to leave, Cait,” she said quickly. “Didn’t we agree to try? A year. That was the deal. We’d give it a real year. If it didn’t work, then—then we’d figure it out.”

Caitlyn scoffed bitterly, the sound sharp as a slap. She finally looked at her, eyes tired and guarded. “Exactly,” she said. “It’s only been two weeks.”

She ran a hand through her hair, voice fraying at the edges. “And look at us. It’s already not working.”

Vi’s throat went dry.

Caitlyn closed the luggage slowly, not finished packing, just… pausing. Like she was waiting for something. Maybe strength. Maybe a reason to stop.

She straightened and exhaled hard. “Maybe it’s just not meant to work out between us,” she murmured. “Maybe this marriage was never meant to be.”

Vi’s heart sank. She felt it in her chest, like something folding in on itself.

She wanted to say something. Anything. Grab her hand. Ask her not to go. But the words just wouldn’t come—her mouth moved, but nothing made it out.

And Caitlyn didn’t walk out the door.

She stayed exactly where she was—by the closet, folding clothes, adding them one by one to the half-zipped luggage.

Still packing. Still here.

But somehow, that was worse.

Because Vi could see it now—in the stiff line of Caitlyn’s shoulders, in the way she wouldn’t look at her—as if she'd already left in every way that mattered.

Then Vi sat down on the bed slowly, like her body weighed more than it should. She ran a hand through her hair, exhaling hard.

“I didn’t expect this to be easy, you know? Starting over again.” she said quietly, eyes fixed on the floor. “We’re getting to know each other again—of course there’s gonna be friction. Arguments. Fights. That’s part of it, right? Part of marriage? Part of figuring out who you’re married to?”

Her voice cracked slightly as she looked at Caitlyn.

“Running away won’t fix anything.”

Caitlyn didn’t look at her. She just gripped the shirt in her hands tighter, knuckles whitening around the fabric.

Then—after a long pause—she sat down beside Vi. Slowly. Carefully. Like she was afraid the bed might break beneath them.

“Maybe you’re right,” Caitlyn murmured, not quite meeting her gaze. “Our marriage… everything in it, everything about us—it’s either fragile or damaged.”

Her voice was thin. Quiet. Almost clinical.

“Maybe we can’t fix it anymore.”

Vi’s head snapped toward her, eyes narrowing, breath catching somewhere between her chest and throat.

“That’s what you really think?” she asked, her voice just above a whisper. “You’re giving up? You’re really choosing to walk away?”

Caitlyn nodded slowly, almost imperceptibly.

“Even if we’re trying to start again,” she said, “your affair—it’s still here. Whether I admit it or not. It’s hanging between us like fog.”

She finally turned her head and looked Vi in the eye.

“And you—” her voice wavered, just a little, “you’ll always hold my emotional distance against me. You’ve already said it, over and over.”

Then she folded the shirt one last time, her hands trembling slightly, and placed it in the luggage.

Her shoulders sagged. Her voice dropped lower.

“We should stop, Vi. We’re not being good to each other. All we’ve done—after everything—is just keep finding new ways to hurt each other.”

Vi shook her head, her pulse starting to spike.

“No,” she said, too fast. “No, that’s not true. We’re both trying. We’ve been okay. Not perfect—but okay. We can still work, Cait.”

But Caitlyn just shook her head, more defeated than angry.

“We shouldn’t force it,” she whispered. “Not if all we’re doing is bleeding slower.”

Vi felt her chest tighten, like she was hearing something final even if Caitlyn hadn’t left yet.

Then Caitlyn stood slowly, zipped up her luggage, and set it down on the floor.

The sound of the zipper cut through the silence like a warning. And the way the bag landed—flat, upright, ready to be moved—felt like a period at the end of something that used to be ongoing.

It felt so final.

It felt like the end.

Vi didn’t move. Couldn’t. What was even the point?

Caitlyn’s mind was made up, and as much as Vi hated it—she wasn’t wrong. No matter how hard they tried, something always dragged them back. Something in the foundation stayed cracked no matter how many times they tried to patch it.

Caitlyn let out a shaky breath, barely a whisper. Then, with her eyes lowered and voice flat, she said, “I’m going to sign the divorce papers.”

Vi’s head jerked slightly, as if the words hit her physically.

Caitlyn kept going. “Just like you wanted from the start.”

She didn’t flinch. She didn’t soften.

“I’ll go and explain to my parents that it’s not working out,” she added, still calm, still formal. “That it’s a mutual decision to part ways.”

It was the way she said it. Cold. Casual. Like she was reciting minutes from a meeting instead of ending a marriage.

Vi shook her head, slow at first—then harder. Her throat clenched.

“No, it’s not,” she said, a tear falling, cutting down her cheek before she could stop it. “It’s not mutual.”

Caitlyn blinked, her lips parting like she was about to say something—but nothing came.

“I still wanted to try,” Vi continued, voice low and trembling. “But I’m not gonna keep you here if… if you don’t wanna stay.”

Caitlyn’s face crumpled, just slightly. Her mouth twitched. Her eyes welled up—and finally, finally, her own tears began to fall. Silent. Like the way they’d been fighting for months now.

Vi gave her a sad smile—small, broken—and then stood up.

She hesitated only a second before wrapping her arms around Caitlyn’s waist, gently but all at once, like she was trying to memorize the shape of her.

Caitlyn didn’t pull back.

She leaned into Vi, arms winding up and over her shoulders, and buried her face in Vi’s neck.

Like it was the last time.

And maybe it was.

Vi closed her eyes. Her lips pressed against Caitlyn’s hair, breathing her in, whispering softly, “Please… stay. Let’s keep trying. Please, Cait.”

Caitlyn exhaled, shaking slightly. She didn’t answer—not with words. She just pressed her hands flat against Vi’s back… and then gently, slowly, she pushed her away.

She untangled herself from Vi’s arms, fingers lingering like they didn’t want to let go but had to anyway.

Then, with a sad smile that hurt more than anything else, she placed her palm against Vi’s cheek. Her touch was warm. Familiar.

“Maybe…” she whispered, “maybe if things were different. If we’d tried sooner. If we’d understood each other better…”

Her voice cracked.

“Maybe we could’ve fallen in love.”

She sniffled, wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, and took a shaky breath.

“I’ll have the papers sent to your lawyer,” she said. “I’ll come back for the rest of my things another day.”

Vi didn’t stop her.

Caitlyn turned. Walked to the door. Her hand hovered for half a second on the knob.

Then she stepped out and pulled it closed behind her.

The door clicked shut.

And as soon as it did, Vi broke.

Caitlyn did her best to keep her tears in check.

She doesn't know why it hurts this much—but it does. In places she didn’t even know could ache. Deep in her chest, behind her ribs, under her skin. It burns.

She never pictured herself as the one to walk away. Never imagined she'd be the one who gave up. But that’s exactly what she was doing now—walking away.

From their marriage. From Vi. From all of it.

Her hand stayed on the doorknob longer than it needed to. Just… holding it. Clutching metal like it might anchor her to something, give her one last second to think, or change her mind.

But she didn’t change her mind.

She stood there, frozen just outside their bedroom, her back to the door. Breathing hard. Swallowing a sob before it could rise up and crack her open.

She needed all the willpower she had left just to take a step.

But as the door had clicked shut behind her—soft but sharp, like a final period at the end of a sentence—and she heard Vi’s sobs rise up on the other side of it, the only thing Caitlyn could think about… was that stupid sandcastle again.

The one she built with her small, careful hands.

The one Vi had tried to decorate.

The one neither of them could protect when the tide rolled in.

Caitlyn had called Sevika earlier, while she was still inside her office. Now she was standing on the curb with her suitcase in hand, waiting, like someone leaving a war zone and not entirely sure if they’d survived it.

The car rolled up. Black, spotless, discreet. Sevika stepped out without a word.

She didn’t ask why Caitlyn needed to be picked up on a Sunday night. Didn’t blink at the luggage. She just took it from Caitlyn’s hand, popped open the trunk, and hauled it in like it was routine.

The door opened. Caitlyn stepped in.

Sevika got behind the wheel and glanced at her in the rearview mirror—silent question, no judgment.

Caitlyn didn’t meet her eyes. Just stared ahead and said, “Take me to the apartment near the eastern wall.”

Sevika gave a short nod and started the car.

The city crawled by, flickering past in soft golds and steel silvers. It should’ve looked familiar, but Caitlyn didn’t recognize anything. Her arms were crossed. Her jaw was clenched. Her eyes locked on a window that reflected nothing back.

She felt Sevika glance at her a few times. Quiet, careful, never pushing.

The silence between them filled the car like smoke—dense, hard to breathe through, but still better than talking.

Caitlyn didn’t want to speak. Because if she started, she didn’t know what would come out. Maybe guilt. Maybe blame. Maybe the kind of sobbing that would leave her breathless and humiliated in the backseat of a black car with tinted windows.

So she said nothing.

By the time they pulled up in front of the building, Caitlyn’s spine ached from holding herself so stiff.

The apartment stood exactly as she remembered—clean lines, well-kept stone, warm lights already on, activated remotely before they even arrived. The hedges were trimmed, the brass fixtures polished. The porch light glowed evenly, no flicker, no dust.

Nothing about it felt old or abandoned. It wasn’t that kind of space. The Kirammans didn’t do disrepair. Except her, apparently, her marriage was the one thing left in disrepair because she failed to maintain it and now she failed to fix it too.

Sevika got out and lifted the suitcase without a grunt. Caitlyn stepped up the front path slowly, heels clicking softly against the perfect tile.

At the door, she paused.

“If you want,” she said, not quite meeting Sevika’s eyes, “you can stay in one of the guest rooms downstairs. It’s late. No sense driving back to Zaun tonight.”

She didn’t even know why she said it. Maybe because it was easier than saying anything else.

Sevika gave a faint grunt, something like acknowledgment, and headed back to the car to get her bag.

Caitlyn stepped inside. Lights hummed on softly, one by one—hallway sconces, overhead fixtures, accent lighting built into the floorboards. Everything immaculate. Not a speck of dust. Not a single thing out of place.

The kind of order that once brought comfort.

Now it just felt… sterile.

She went straight to the kitchen, opened the wine cabinet, and pulled out a bottle that had been resting there untouched since her university years. The glasses were already spotless. Of course they were.

She poured herself a glass.

Then, barefoot now, she climbed the stairs—wine in one hand, the bottle in the other. No need for light switches. The sensors registered her footsteps and lit the hallway as she walked.

Everything functioned exactly as it was supposed to.

Except her marriage.

Except her.

Across the city of progress, Vi was making very little progress at all.

She’d cried. For a while. Long enough that her face felt sore and her throat burned from it, but not long enough to feel any better. And when the tears dried and left that raw, hollow feeling behind, she decided—screw it. Might as well add getting drunk to her long, glittering list of bad decisions.

She grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet, didn’t bother with a chaser. Just a glass, her phone, and whatever was left of her dignity.

The living room was quiet. Still. Like even the furniture was waiting for someone else to walk in and tell her what to do.

The first thing she saw when she sat down was the wedding photo.

Her and Caitlyn. Smiling. Too posed, too perfect. Laughing at some joke the photographer made to “capture the moment.” They looked happy.

Lie.

Vi poured herself a glass and knocked it back. The burn felt good. Familiar.

Glass two went down faster. Glass three barely touched her tongue before it was gone.

By the time she poured her fourth, her hand wobbled just a little—and her finger hovered over a contact she hadn’t dialed in months.

Then she hit call before she could stop herself.

Finally—six rings in—a groggy voice answered, scratchy with sleep and already irritated.

“What?”

Vi tried to chuckle. Light. Careless. It cracked halfway through.

“Hey, Powder,” she said, her voice already a mess. “Did I wake you?”

There was a pause. Just a beat. Then something shifted in Powder’s tone.

“What happened?”

Vi sucked in a breath, shaky and uneven. Let it out with a bitter, mangled laugh.

“She left,” she said. “Caitlyn. She packed a bag and—” Her throat closed around it. “She’s gone.”

She waited for it—that jab. That eye-roll. That you-had-it-coming.

But it didn’t come.

Instead: a quiet sigh.

And then Powder asked, “Are you okay?”

And that—those three words—was what did it.

Vi sucked in a breath, held it, but the tears pushed their way out anyway. Her shoulders shook. Her hand gripped the glass too tightly. She didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Just sobbed.

Ugly, gasping sobs that clawed up her throat and spilled out like something she couldn’t hold in anymore.

On the other end of the line, Powder was quiet for a beat.

Then, softly but firmly: “Don’t do anything stupid. I’m coming over.”

Caitlyn sat alone at the small table near the apartment’s wide bay window. The lights were soft, warm, automated—she didn’t need to flip a switch. The wine glass in her hand was still half-full, her second pour untouched.

The bottle sat beside her, open. Condensation was sliding down the side.

She hadn’t cried. Not since she walked out. Not since she stood behind that door and listened to Vi sob on the other side. She wouldn’t cry. Not again. Her eyes stung, but she blinked slowly, deliberately, and stared at the empty chair across from her like it was supposed to be occupied.

She still felt it—Vi’s arms around her, that last embrace, quiet and desperate. Like holding Caitlyn was the only thing that still made sense. Like she already knew Caitlyn was going to leave.

And Caitlyn had.

She leaned her forehead against the windowpane. Cool glass. Something steady to press into when the rest of her felt weightless and wrong.

Her hand moved before she could stop it, reaching for her phone on the table.

The screen lit up.

No messages. No calls.

Of course not.

She set it back down. Face down. Like that would make the sting quieter.

She hated that she looked. Hated the pathetic part of her that kept expecting Vi to reach out. As if she deserved that. As if she hadn’t been the one to leave. As if she hadn’t been the one who looked Vi in the eyes and said, Maybe we can’t fix it anymore. .

Why would Vi text her? Why should she?

She rubbed at her face, slow and tired, before sinking back into the chair and letting her arms hang loose at her sides. Maybe she did want Vi to reach out. To fight. To show up at her door and say no, we’re not giving up yet . But she also knew—deep down, in the quiet, cruel part of herself—she didn’t deserve that.

Not anymore.

Not after everything they’ve been through.

They were both tired. That was the truth of it. Bone-deep, soul-tired. Like they’d been trying to swim against an unforgiving current. But all they managed to do was drown, letting the waves swallow them like the way it swallowed that sand castle.

Caitlyn sighed and groaned and finally picked up the wine glass.

She drank.

It was dry. Bitter. Too bitter.

She took another sip of wine.

It didn’t help.

She wished it would. She wished it could strip everything out of her—the guilt, the pressure, the noise in her head—and leave nothing but that old, familiar cold. The version of her that didn’t feel.

She used to be good at that.

Distance was easy. Numbness was easy. It’s how she got through school, politics, her marriage. That quiet, emotionless place had always kept her safe.

So why couldn’t she find it now?

Why did everything hurt?

She never even had feelings for Vi. Not really. Not at the start. Not for a long time. Not at all. Right?

So why now—when she should feel nothing—did it feel like something inside her had cracked open and wouldn’t stop bleeding?

Why couldn’t she just go back to being empty or numb or frigid?

Why the hell was she hurting at all?

Chapter Text

It took a while for Powder to get to her sister’s townhouse. And by the time she got there, Vi had already calmed down.

She wasn’t crying anymore. Just sitting there, composed on the couch—legs crossed, back pressed firmly against the backrest like she was bracing herself against something that never stopped coming. A half-empty glass of whiskey dangled from her fingers, steady despite everything. Her gaze was locked on the wedding photo on the wall. The one where she and Caitlyn were smiling like strangers pretending to be in love. Too bright. Too perfect. Too fake.

She heard the front door open. No rush, no panic. A quiet click, followed by a soft exhale. Powder.

If it was an assassin instead, well—Vi didn’t flinch. Let them finish the job. It’s not like she cared anymore.

Cabinets opened and closed in the kitchen. A bottle neck clinked against glass. Then footsteps.

Powder appeared in the living room, wine glass in hand, the bottle tucked in her arm like it was an extension of her.

Vi didn’t look at her. Just blinked slowly, eyes still on the photo. “You here to gloat?” Her voice came out scratchy, low. “Celebrate that Caitlyn finally got tired of my shit and left?”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Powder stop mid-sip, roll her eyes hard enough that Vi was amazed Powder's eyes were still inside their sockets.

Powder flopped onto the other end of the couch, spun sideways so she could face Vi, propping her feet up and leaning back against the armrest and stared at her sister who she was sure was dying inside.

“No,” she said, finally, after taking a slow sip. “I’m here to check on my idiot sister because I actually care.”

She looked at Vi. Expression flat, a little tired. “But if you keep being an ass, I might change my mind.”

Vi snorted, but it didn’t have any bite. She just looked back down at her glass and tipped it toward her lips again.

After taking a long drink, Vi tilted her glass, watching the amber liquid catch the dim light.

“You never really liked me for Caitlyn,” she muttered, jaw tight.

Powder didn’t answer right away—just sipped her wine, slow, waiting.

Vi let out a breath and turned her head slightly, not enough to meet her sister’s eyes. “Why, though?” she asked. “Why didn’t you like me for her? You treated me like Caitlyn was getting the short end of the stick marrying me.”

Powder stayed quiet, expression unreadable.

Vi dragged a hand over her face, rubbing at her temple like the question physically pained her. “I tried. You know I did. I made breakfast for her, showed up when she needed me, waited for her for dinner. Even pulled off the surprise flowers thing once or twice. That’s supposed to count for something, right? That’s the kind of stuff people want. Stuff they appreciate.”

She exhaled, sharp and bitter.

“I did all the romantic shit. But she never once cared.”

Powder slowly set her wine glass on the table.

“That’s the thing, Vi,” she said, voice low. “You did what people usually think is romantic. But you never once stopped to ask if Caitlyn thought it was romantic. Or if she even knew what romance was in the first place.”

Vi’s eyes flicked toward her. “Everyone knows what romance is.”

“Do they?” Powder raised her eyebrows. “You ever actually watched a romantic movie with her?”

Vi blinked, thrown. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything,” Powder gave a tired laugh and leaned back. “Because if you had, you’d know. Caitlyn doesn’t pick up on that stuff. You’d have to tell her, like—literally tell her—‘this is romantic,’ and she’d still ask why. Then she’d analyze the answer and decide if it made logical sense.”

Vi opened her mouth. Closed it.

“She’s not like you or me,” Powder went on. “And yeah, I’ve been on your ass about this because… you’ve been married five years. And I still don’t think you ever tried to really understand her.”

Vi’s expression shifted, just barely. Her shoulders dropped.

“You put effort in. I’m not saying you didn’t,” Powder added, gentler now. “But you did it for you. You never asked what she needed. You just gave what you thought should be enough.”

Vi looked down at her glass. Her fingers tightened around it.

After a long stretch of silence—just the ticking of the clock and the soft hum of the fridge—Vi finally spoke.

Her voice was hoarse. Quiet. “So what the hell am I supposed to do now?”

Powder didn’t answer immediately. She stared down at her wineglass, swirled it once, then let out a heavy breath.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe… maybe you move on.”

Vi’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t look at her. Just kept her eyes on the floor.

“Maybe it’s time you found someone who doesn’t need to be figured out like some unsolvable code,” Powder continued. “Someone you can understand and who understands you without needing a user manual with clear, concise, step by step instructions.”

Vi let out a low breath, barely a scoff, but didn’t interrupt.

“Someone you don’t have to adjust for. Someone who feels easy.”

That one made Vi flinch. Barely. Like the word had grazed a bruise.

She let out a humorless half-laugh, bitter and quiet. “Yeah. Easy sounds nice.”

Powder gave her a long look but didn’t respond.

“I know Caitlyn is difficult, but I always thought you’d try harder with her,” she said after a pause, her tone quieter now. “Not because of the marriage agreement but because I figured you really loved her. You always have.”

Vi’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t speak.

“I’m not blind, sis,” Powder added. “I saw it. You trying to always get her attention when we were growing up, always too close to her, always getting her gifts.”

Vi’s grip tightened around her glass. She thought of the time she left flowers on Caitlyn’s desk—small, purple ones, Caitlyn’s favorite. No note, just a quiet gesture. Caitlyn glanced at them once, set them aside, and forgot about them all together until they wilted and Vi had to throw them out.

“But when you finally got her,” Powder went on, “it’s like… you stopped trying to know her. You just started doing all the things that felt right to you.”

Vi finally looked up, eyes sharp. “I’ve known Caitlyn my whole life.”

“Yeah,” Powder said, with a dry snort. “And you still don’t know shit about her.”

She leaned back against the armrest, drained the rest of her wine.

“All you ever wanted to see were the parts of her that made sense to you. You ignored the rest. Or got pissed off when it didn’t match what you expected.”

Powder set the glass down on the coffee table with a soft clink.

“Maybe you weren’t in love with Caitlyn,” she said, almost gently. “Not really, anyways. Maybe you were just infatuated with the idea of her, she is after all, a Kiramman, beautiful and smart. Maybe you just like the the idea of having her. To win her. Like she was some kind of trophy that everyone wanted but only you have. Or maybe you just got swayed by the adults back then talking about how you two would make a cute couple if you presented as an alpha and Caitlyn, an Omega.”

Vi didn’t move.

She just stared up at the wedding picture on the wall in front of her, feeling like it’s taunting her somehow.

Was that it? Was Powder right? Maybe she really wasn't in-love with Caitlyn. But if she wasn't, then why did Caitlyn ignoring her all these years hurt her so much? Why did Caitlyn asking for a divorce felt like her soul was ripped out of her body.

It was around 2 a.m. when Caitlyn’s phone—silent, face down beside her half-finished wine glass—started to vibrate.

Her eyes flicked toward it. For the briefest second—stupid, reflexive—she thought it might be Vi.

But it wasn’t.

Powder.

Caitlyn exhaled and stared at the screen a moment longer, then reached for it with slightly clumsy fingers. She was halfway through her second bottle of wine, not completely gone but definitely tipsy, her head a little heavy and her limbs slow.

She put the phone to her ear and tried to sound upbeat. Only a slurred, drowsy, “Powder? What are you doing calling me at this ungodly hour?” came out.

The sigh on the other end was heavy, the kind that came from somewhere bone-deep. “Just checking on you,” Powder said. “Are you drunk?”

Caitlyn laughed—too quick, too light. She didn’t answer.

Instead, she leaned her head against the cool windowpane, eyes scanning the empty street outside, and muttered, “Did you know there’s a mold called Cladosporium cellare that grows in centuries-old wine cellars? People actually keep it because it absorbs alcohol vapor, regulates humidity. Kind of like a goth housekeeper.”

There was a beat.

Then Powder chuckled, though it was followed by a groan—half amused, half exasperated. “Okay. So not only are you drunk, you’re being avoidant.”

Caitlyn scoffed, sitting straighter and crossing her legs. “I am not. I picked up the call, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. And hit me with a fun fact thirty seconds in.” Powder said, a little firmer now. “Which we both know you only do when you’re dodging something, like a conversation.”

Then, more gently she added, “I’m just now leaving the townhouse.”

Caitlyn fell quiet for a beat. The hand holding the phone dropped slightly, like it had grown heavier.

Then, soft enough that her voice nearly disappeared into the room, she asked, “...How’s Vi?”

Powder hummed, somewhere between amused and tired. “So… you do care.”

Caitlyn huffed, a little too drunk to mask the truth. “Of course I care,” she muttered, one hand holding on to her phone, the other gripping her wine glass too tightly. “She's my wife.”

“Ex-wife,” Powder corrected, softer this time. “Or... she will be, when the divorce goes through.”

Caitlyn groaned quietly, tilting her head back. A beat passed. “Right,” she said, voice flat. “Ex-wife.”

She stared at the ceiling like it held the answers to all her questions, then she dropped her head into her hand and decided to ask Powder instead. “Do you think I’m doing the right thing?”

There was a pause on the other end—just long enough to sting.

“How the hell would I know?” Powder finally replied. Then a breath, slower. “I don’t know if it’s right or wrong, Caity. What I do know is... you two need a break. Maybe it’s permanent. Maybe it’s not. But either way? You guys need some time apart.”

Caitlyn blinked down and stared at the wedding ring on her finger. She doesn’t remember ever taking it off unless she needed to have it cleaned, now she wonders if she’d have to take it off completely or give it back to Vi because she was soon to be unmarried. She didn’t like that thought, not at all.

Her mind was wandering so she pulled herself back into her conversation with Powder. Her voice dropped, brittle. “Are you angry at me?”

Powder scoffed, though it didn’t sound mean. “Why would I be angry? It's your marriage, not mine.”

Then, softer: “I mean, it’s not like I don’t care. I do. But it’s not my place.”

Caitlyn leaned her forehead to the glass window, breath fogging a small circle there. “Do you think I was a bad wife?”

That sigh—deep, hesitant—told her more than any words could.

“I don’t think you were a bad wife,” Powder said slowly. “I think... you just don’t know how to show you care. Or maybe you do and you’re too scared to let it out. Either that or you overthink it first and then decide not to show you care.”

Caitlyn closed her eyes. Her fingers slipped on the glass for a second—almost dropped it.

“You’ve always been kind of... removed,” Powder continued. “Detached. And I get it—feelings are weird, you overthink everything. But Caity... you could’ve tried. You could have done more. You just didn’t.”

Caitlyn’s jaw tensed. Her grip on the wineglass tightened again.

“And that’s what sucked,” Powder added. “It made everything feel one-sided. Like... Vi was out there building a whole bridge to reach you and you wouldn’t even take a single step toward her.”

“I did try,” Caitlyn snapped, not loud—just desperate. The kind of defense that collapses the moment it’s said.

And on the other end, Powder’s scoff was quiet. Sad. Like she’d already heard that line too many times.

“Yeah, Caity, you did—” Powder’s voice was sharper now, tight with something that wasn’t quite anger but wasn’t far off either. “When it was almost over. You only started putting in effort when Vi was already giving up.”

There was a rustle of movement on the other end of the line—fabric brushing against something, the hollow slam of a car door closing. The next time Powder spoke, her voice was clearer, closer to the mic. More direct.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I’m still pissed about the affair. Still think Vi’s an idiot for that. Nothing justifies cheating—nothing.”

A pause. Caitlyn held her breath. She knew there was a ‘but’ coming.

“But if we’re being honest?” Powder exhaled hard through her nose. “You pushed her there. Whether you admit it or not. Whether it hurts or not. You had a hand in what happened. You were an absentee wife and yeah, some people might say that, that isn't reason enough to have an affair, sure. But Vi wanted a wife, not just on paper, and you... you just shared a house, a name, a bed, and nothing else. Not love, not intimacy, not even trust. So maybe, that was reason enough for Vi. But yeah, she should have asked for a divorce sooner... that much is true.”

Caitlyn blinked slowly, her grip on the wineglass tightening again until she felt it squeak faintly under her fingers.

Then came the low hum of an engine starting. Powder was driving now, but her voice stayed steady.

“Caity... Marriage is a two-way street. It’s not one person doing all the work while the other just... shows up. You can't just expect It takes two adults to make it work.”

“I didn’t even have feelings for her,” Caitlyn snapped—too quickly, too defensively. Her voice cracked slightly on the word “feelings.”

Powder didn’t miss a beat. “Doesn't matter.”

There was no hesitation in her voice now. Just truth.

“Whether you loved her or not, you were married. You had vows. If you had no intention of ever really losing her, then the least you could’ve done was try to keep her.”

Caitlyn’s grip on the phone tightened. “And what should I have done, Pow?” she snapped, louder than she meant to, words cutting clean and fast like glass shattering in her throat. “What exactly was I supposed to do?”

“Why does it even matter now?” Powder shot back. “It doesn’t, Caity. You and Vi are getting a divorce, right? So what’s the point in digging through all the shoulda, woulda, coulda of your relationship?”

Caitlyn stared out the window, her reflection faint in the glass—red-eyed and raw.

“The best thing you can do now is just finalize the papers, sign them and move on. Find someone who actually makes you feel safe enough to share what’s going on in that overly complicated head of yours. Someone who’s patient enough to deal with all your... quirks.”

She exhaled hard, muttering now. “Because clearly, relying on Vi to magically figure you out like it was some game of charades? That didn’t work. And you—” Powder’s voice cracked, “you didn’t help her either.”

Caitlyn let the silence stretch, then muttered, flat and low, “You’re angry.”

There was a sudden screech of tires—Powder must’ve hit the brakes too hard.

“I’m not angry,” she said, too fast, too sharp. “I’m frustrated. At both of you.”

A pause. Then softer, but no less biting:

“You’re both so smart on your own—but the second you try to do this marriage thing together, it’s like you cancel each other out. Two geniuses, acting like idiots.”

Then, as if trying to calm herself down, Powder’s voice softened just a bit.

“Look… I know you're having a hard time with all of this, Caity. With feelings you’ve never had to deal with before. I get that this—your marriage and trying to actually make it work—it’s new and strange and probably terrifying for you.”

Caitlyn closed her eyes, let the wine sit like heat in her stomach.

“I know you don’t really get the whole idea of love or romance. Hell, I don’t even think you believe in it half the time,” Powder continued, voice a little gentler now. “But I know you care. You do. I’ve seen it. You care about your parents. About me and my dad. About your friends. Your job. And… you care about Vi too. You know you do. Even if you wouldn't admit it out loud.”

Caitlyn didn't answer, just stared out the window as if the answer was written in the dark.

Powder sighed. “The problem is… you get so trapped in your own head, you weigh the pros and cons first and the second you feel overwhelmed, your first move is to get up and walk away. Always has been.”

A beat passed, and then Powder’s voice shifted, lighter, almost teasing. “Remember that puzzle you were doing when we were kids? The big one that daddy bought for you on your birthday—with the thousands of tiny pieces? You spent days on that thing. And then when you were so close to finishing it, I knocked it off the table by accident. Vi got mad at me and told me I was always so clumsy.”

Despite herself, Caitlyn almost smiled. Almost.

“But you didn’t get mad. You didn’t get annoyed at me or cry or yell. You just… stared at the mess, and then told Vi to stop being mean to me and walked away. You didn't touch that puzzle again. Refused to start over.”

Another pause.

“That’s exactly what this is Caity,” Powder said, quieter now. “Your marriage? It’s that damn puzzle. Something went wrong and instead of trying again, instead of picking up the pieces, you’re just walking away.”

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t interrupt. Couldn’t.

Powder let out a breath, like the words were pulling something out of her too.

“All your life, people have reached out to you when you were hurt or angry or sulking. You didn’t have to explain anything. They just came to you. And if they didn’t… you were fine never speaking to them again. You could live in that silence forever.”

Caitlyn blinked slowly, throat tightening.

“But marriage doesn’t work like that, Caity. You can’t just sit in the dark and expect Vi to always come find you. You can’t keep letting her do all the work of pulling you back in. If you want this to work—you have to meet her halfway.”

Another long silence. Then Powder’s voice dropped, flat and tired.

“Anyway. Doesn’t matter now, does it?”

Caitlyn could hear the shift in her tone—resignation, not bitterness.

“You’ve made up your mind about the divorce. That’s obvious. So let’s not waste time talking about what could’ve worked. Just… move on. Try therapy, maybe figure out what the hell you actually want out of a relationship. And if you don’t want to do that?” A bitter laugh. “Then just marry someone as emotionally constipated as you are, so you can both be detached and peaceful forever.”

Caitlyn didn’t have it in her to argue anymore. Not with Powder, not with herself. What could she even say? Powder wasn’t yelling, wasn’t blaming—just laying the truth out there like a report Caitlyn never wanted to read but couldn’t look away from either.

And she wasn’t even angry. Not at Powder. Not really.

She just felt… hollow. A strange, aching kind of defeated. The kind where even your bones feel too tired to carry anything else.

“I'm going to bed,” she murmured into the phone, her voice flatter than she expected.

Powder didn’t say goodbye. Just grunted—short, tight, annoyed. It wasn’t like her, and that silence between them felt heavier than any fight they'd ever had, not that they've had many.

But Caitlyn didn’t push. She didn’t know how to anymore and she wasn't sure she wanted to.

She ended the call, put her her wine glass down, and moved to the bed with her phone still in her hand.

The moment she laid down, she felt it.

It was cold.

She liked the cold. It made sense to her—still, sharp, controlled. But as she pulled the sheets up to her shoulders, the chill didn’t comfort her the way it used to. All it did was remind her what wasn’t there.

Vi.

The warmth she used to complain about. The weight of an arm slung over her waist. The soft, lazy exhale against the back of her neck. She hadn’t noticed until now how quickly she’d gotten used to it.

She turned to the side and reached for her phone again, thumb hovering over the screen before unlocking it.

The last few messages stared back at her.

Vi: What do you want for dinner?
Caitlyn: Anything is fine.
Vi: How about just have me for dinner? Hehe.
Caitlyn: Sure, as long as you’re okay being cooked. Slowly.
Vi: You can have me raw, I don’t mind 😏
Caitlyn: Vi 😤

Vi: No kiss today? 😭
Caitlyn: You didn’t wake me. You could have just kissed me while I was asleep you know.
Vi: That’s no fun, you couldn’t kiss me back.
Caitlyn: Wake me next time so that you’re not complaining about no kisses.

Vi: I’ll be a little late today. I have this thing at work 🙄
Caitlyn: Okay, want me to wait for you?
Vi: No, you go eat dinner if you’re hungry.
Caitlyn: Not really hungry, I’ll wait for you.
Vi: Miss me? 🥹
Caitlyn: 🙄

She scrolled. Just a few lines.

She read the thread twice.

Three times.

She didn’t know what was harder—locking the phone again, like none of this had ever mattered, or texting something. Anything. Like: I’m sorry.

But she wasn’t ready.

So instead, she shut off the screen, laid flat on her back, stared at the ceiling, and let the cold settle in.

Chapter Text

The day after Caitlyn moved out of their matrimonial home was brutal.

Her phone’s alarm blared at exactly 8:00AM, like usual.

Her eyes didn’t flinch. Her body didn’t move. The sound kept going.

But Caitlyn, who spent the night getting drunk at one of the Kiramman’s apartments near the edge of Piltover, didn’t need to wake up or sober up, she was already awake because no matter what she did, lying on her too large for one bed and closing her eyes, she just couldn’t sleep at all.

Her arms stayed stiff at her sides. Her expression hadn’t changed since she laid down a few hours ago.

She turned off the annoying alarm, got up and got ready unusually fast, unlike her usual languid routine.

Every step felt mechanical. No pause between motions. No lingering in the shower, no skin care routine, no make up either, she didn’t take any of those when she left the house last night, the house she shared with her wife, Vi.

Her fingers hovered over the empty countertop for half a second before curling into a loose fist.

Ex-wife, actually.

Her jaw locked. Her lips pressed together. She looked down at the sink, turning on the tap and just watching the water flow down the drain, kinda like how her marriage just went down the drain last night.

She groaned, not just at the memory of her asking Vi for a divorce but also because she had a headache that could rival all the other headaches she’s had from university, when she was a teenager always being dragged by her friends to a party where Vi was magically in attendance, too.

Her fingers dug into her temples. She squeezed her eyes shut.

She tried to push Powder’s words from last night away from her mind no matter how right they were, she just didn’t want to think about it or replay the conversation.

Still, Powder was right, Caitlyn could at least admit that to herself.

She inhaled slowly through her nose, then opened her eyes. No point denying it.

Caitlyn did have a bad habit of walking away from things or situations where she’s decided that staying or fixing something isn’t worth the effort she could put in.

She blinked at her own reflection. Her face didn’t give away any feelings, none at all, but her throat felt tight.

Her eyes stayed locked on her own. The tightness got worse the longer she looked at herself. Her jaw clenched once before she muttered, barely above a whisper, “It was worth it.”

The words sat in the air for a beat, like they weren’t sure if they meant anything. Her mouth pulled into a slight frown. “I think it was,” she said again, this time quieter. “It was, wasn’t it?”

Then she sighed, gripping the counter, wondering if she could still take it back.

Vi, on the other hand, woke up and decided that she wasn’t going to do anything at all today. She wasn’t going to get up from the couch where she fell asleep, drunk, last night. She wasn’t going to shower or go to work. She wasn’t going to do anything at all.

That was the plan.

But her sister, Powder, decided that Vi’s plans were definitely not good plans.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. Once. Then twice.

Vi groaned, arm flopping over the side of the couch. She fumbled for the phone and squinted at the screen.

Powder: Ekko told me you’re not at the office. You have work.

Vi snorted softly and tapped back.

Vi: I’m the boss, I don’t have to work if I don’t want to.

She dropped the phone beside her hip and closed her eyes. It buzzed again almost immediately.

She picked it up.

Powder: Hmm, so mature, so responsible 🙄

Vi rolled her eyes and sat up with a grunt, tossing the throw blanket off her legs.

Vi: Can’t I just have a day to myself? My wife just left me, you know.

She stared at the message after she sent it, mouth pulled in a line. Her thumb hovered like she was tempted to delete it, but didn’t.

The next buzz came faster than she wanted it to.

Powder: Yeah, and? You cheated on her. You were fucking someone else for a year and now you’re miserable she left you when you were the one who left her first? Puhleaase.

Her stomach dropped. Her fingers curled tight around the phone. Her head bowed slightly as she read it again, slower.

Vi: I knew last night was too good to be true. You just couldn’t help but bring it up, can you? Some sister you are.

Her hands trembled slightly as she typed. She stood up and started pacing.

Powder: Oh, would you rather have a sister who agrees with all your bad decisions? Who doesn’t call you out on your bullshit?

Vi's jaw locked. Her pulse was starting to climb.

Vi: I’d like a sister who tried, for once, to understand my point of view, too. And not just blindly siding with my wife like Caitlyn is some innocent victim in all this!

She hit send hard. The screen flickered slightly from the pressure of her thumb.

Powder: I do understand you! You think I don’t?! I understand why you did it!
Powder: But just because I understand doesn’t mean I have to agree with it! Nothing will ever justify what you did and you should know that! I will not sugarcoat anything just to make you feel better about yourself.
Powder: And no, I don’t always side with Caitlyn! Just because you don’t see me getting mad at her doesn’t mean I don’t and that I always take her side.
Powder: But you know what, be that way, wallow up in whatever pity party you’re throwing yourself and stop showing up for work the same way you stopped showing up for your marriage.

She read through the rapid fire text messages Powder sent. She read them twice. Her breath was shaking, her heart pounding in anger. Angry with who? Powder or herself? She’s not entirely sure.

Vi: What the fuck? I ALWAYS SHOWED UP FOR MY MARRIAGE! I WAS ALWAYS HERE, TRYING TO MAKE IT WORK!

She was shouting through her text, at Powder, at anything or anyone.

Powder: Except when you were fucking someone else, pretending that this other woman could be the wife you always wanted Caitlyn to be. Bye.

She didn’t finish reading it the second time. She didn’t need to.

Vi stared at her phone, gripping it so hard her hand started to ache.

Then—without warning—she threw it. Full force. Straight at the wedding photo on the wall.

The glass cracked. The frame hit the floor.

Just like her marriage, cracking, breaking, and finally hitting rock bottom and shattering into a million tiny pieces that would cut you if you tried to pick them up.

Caitlyn sat on a corner table inside “Always Brewing,” the quaint coffee shop beside the council building where she suggested she and Mishel meet.

She stirred her coffee once, twice, then set the spoon down without tasting it. Her fingers tapped against the side of the mug.

She was early, but that was okay.

She glanced at the time, then out the window. Her posture was straight, but her shoulders were tight.

She could use the time to think of what she could possibly ask Mishel that would either crucify him or exonerate him from Caitlyn’s suspicions.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she stared at the table’s edge. The word crucify echoed once in her mind before she reached for her drink and took a shallow sip. It was too hot. She didn’t flinch.

Frankly, she shouldn’t even be having this coffee meeting anymore.

Her jaw clenched. She picked up a napkin and folded it in half, then in half again.

Why does it matter now who sent the photos of Vi cheating and why?

She looked at her phone. No new messages. Her thumb hovered over the screen, then locked it again.

They won’t be married for too long now.

She inhaled, held it for two seconds, then exhaled slowly through her nose.

Now that they were getting divorced, she shouldn’t care at all where those photos and rumors came from.

She shifted in her seat, adjusting the sleeve of her blazer. The lie sat awkwardly in her chest.

But she does care, and she wants to know. Definitively.

Her fingers drummed against the ceramic mug.

She wants to know the motive behind the photos, why someone wanted to ruin her marriage, or more specifically, why someone wanted to ruin Vi.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. Her gaze sharpened.

Because like she’s figured out, even if those photos became public, Caitlyn wouldn’t be affected much, but Vi stands to lose everything.

She blinked once. Her fingers stilled.

Her reputation, her social standing, people’s respect…

Caitlyn reached for her coffee again, this time holding it in both hands.

Someone wanted to ruin Vi, and Caitlyn wanted to know who and why.

She stared into the steam curling off the cup. Her expression didn’t shift, but her grip on the handle tightened slightly.

They were getting divorced, yes, but they weren’t divorced yet.

She set the cup down carefully. Straightened her posture.

She was still Vi’s wife, and she had a right to know.

“Your mind drifting somewhere far away, Councilor?”

A sweet—too sweet—voice broke through Caitlyn’s thoughts, and when she looked up, her eyes met with the deep gray ones of Mishel Ferros.

He stood there with his platinum blond hair, an easy smile that showed dimples on both cheeks, and a gladiator-like build too unlike any of the other Ferros children—so unlike them that if Mishel didn’t inherit the Ferros signature blond hair and gray eyes, people might think he was adopted.

Caitlyn almost smiled, reflexively—but stopped herself just before it reached her eyes. She stood up to greet him. “Ferros,” she said, tone polite but clipped.

He leaned in slightly, offering a warm, practiced smile as he kissed her cheek.

Aside from being on the Council together, she and Mishel were actually schoolmates in both High school and university. They didn’t run with the same circle of friends, and they didn’t really have a lot of classes together, but Mishel was always around—similar to Vi—always hovering, always present, always reachable but never too close.

Her eyes dropped to his suit. The white was sharp. Almost too sharp. Gray and gold embroidered in just the right places. Her gaze lingered—not in admiration, but calculation.

“That suit is immaculate,” she said, voice even. “White suits you.”

Mishel smoothed a hand down the front of his jacket with a wink. “You know me—always dressing to distract.”

Caitlyn sat down without responding to the flirtation.

They both took their seats, across from each other.

Mishel adjusted his sleeves, then looked across the table with a grin. “You look beautiful, by the way,” he added. “It’s great that you suggested we catch up.”

Caitlyn gave a faint nod, folding her hands together on the table, expression neutral.

“Outside of Council meetings and very aggressive Council debates,” Mishel continued with a short laugh, “we rarely have a chance to talk.”

“But of course, that’s to be expected. You were never the type to waste time with small talk,” Mishel adds.

Caitlyn chuckled softly, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “That’s true,” she said, then lifted her cup, letting the steam hit her face before continuing, “but I do give time to friends who show concern.”

She paused, tilting her head slightly, eyes steady on him.

“Thank you, Mishel. For thinking of me… when the rumors about my marriage were making the rounds on every tabloid in Piltover and Zaun.”

Mishel gave a light smile, then nodded off to a waiter with a flick of two fingers.

“I’ll have a caramel macchiato,” he said, turning slightly in his chair. “Extra foam. Cinnamon sprinkles.”

Caitlyn’s lips pressed into a thin line. She fought the urge to roll her eyes.

Too sweet.

Nothing like the coffee she and Vi drank. Brewed. No sugar. Bitter—like their relationship.

She almost sighed—but kept that in too. Her spine straightened a touch. She had to remain composed. This was an interrogation, not friendly chatter. At least, not for her.

“But to be honest, Councilor, I wasn’t really surprised when the rumors came out,” Mishel said, voice smooth.

He leaned back slightly, folding one leg over the other.

“I always thought the marriage between you and Vi was a little too perfect. As if it was all an act.”

Caitlyn’s jaw flexed. Her grip on the cup tightened slightly, heat pressing into her palm.

Before she could speak, Mishel added lightly, “Or maybe that was just my green-eyed monster rearing its head.”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharpening. The confusion flickered first—then suspicion settled in behind it.

“Jealous?” she asked, her tone clipped. “Why would you be jealous, Mishel?”

“Why would anyone be jealous?” Mishel said with a soft, friendly laugh. It didn’t really sound like it held malice—just… nostalgia. And maybe a little regret hiding behind it.

He leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table.

“Well, we’re very much older now,” he continued with a small shrug. “And you’re married. So it shouldn’t really be a big deal. But back in high school and university?”

He gave a low chuckle and shook his head.

“I was holding a flaming torch for you.”

Caitlyn blinked. The words caught her completely off guard. She didn’t know if she was supposed to feel flattered, amused, or slightly annoyed. Instead, she just looked at him—neutral, but attentive.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” she asked, her voice quiet but steady.

Mishel laughed again, softer this time, and exhaled through his nose. He gave a slight shake of his head.

“How could I?” he said. “Vi was always around. Hovering over you.”

The way he said it— hovering —landed heavier than she expected. Familiar, but still dissonant.

“Everyone knew—or at least gossiped—that you and Vi were secretly together. So when your wedding was announced right after graduation, no one was really surprised.”

A waiter set his drink down in front of him. Mishel offered a quick nod in thanks, then picked up the cup.

He blew lightly on the foam and took a sip.

Caitlyn tilted her head, fingers brushing the side of her own cup.

“What else were people gossiping about?” she asked. “About me and Vi, I mean. Back then.”

Mishel paused for a second—just long enough to let her curiosity settle.

Then he laughed. Full-bodied this time, as if the memory genuinely entertained him.

“Oh, people had a lot to say,” he said. “The consensus was pretty divided.”

He leaned back in his chair, one hand loosely cradling his mug.

“Half the student body thought you two were dating. Half thought Vi was stalking you.”

Caitlyn blinked once—slowly.

Mishel grinned, clearly enjoying this a little too much.

“And some—very few—thought you and Vi just didn’t show anyone you were dating because either Vi was possessive… or you were the jealous type.”

Her lips parted for a moment, then closed again. She wasn’t sure what was more ridiculous: that anyone thought Vi was possessive, or that she was.

It was always easier for people to label Vi as intense, territorial—like that made her the problem. While Caitlyn, cool and calculated, was easier to cast as the jealous one behind closed doors.

She scoffed, sharp and immediate.

“I am definitely not the jealous type.”

Her tone was flat, defensive before she could stop it. She reached for her coffee again, even though it had already gone lukewarm.

“So, Vi was possessive then,” Mishel teased, a playful lilt in his voice.

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, but this time she smiled—and it was real. Not just polite.

“No,” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Vi was not possessive at all.”

She paused, fingers stilling on her cup. The edge of her smile faltered slightly.

Her mind flicked back—last night, the fight, the slammed door. The divorce.

She let out a soft sigh.

“Fine,” she muttered. “Maybe just a little. But not enough to be… annoying.”

She added the next part only in her head: but enough that we had a fight over it that ended in a divorce.

Her jaw tightened. She groaned inwardly, but her face never betrayed anything. The smile was gone now, replaced with a neutral expression that gave nothing away.

Then she reminded herself of why she was here.

This wasn’t about teenage crushes. It wasn’t about nostalgia. She wasn’t here for coffee and gossip.

She was here to figure out if Mishel had anything to do with the photos.

Caitlyn cleared her throat lightly and straightened her posture. Her eyes flicked to his.

“What did you think?” she asked, voice even. “Back then, I mean. About me and Vi.”

Mishel paused, mug halfway to his lips, then sighed. He set it down with a soft clink.

“At first?” he said, glancing at the tabletop. “I didn’t want to believe it.”

His gaze lifted again, slower now.

“It was absurd—coming from an outsider looking in. You and Vi were far too different.”

He gestured vaguely with one hand.

“Vi was rash, loud, overly confident—to the point of being conceited, honestly. And you were…” His tone softened. “Quiet. Soft spoken. Calculating.”

Caitlyn’s fingers curled around the edge of her cup, but she didn’t interrupt.

Mishel leaned back in his chair, letting out a short breath.

“But whenever we were all together at some party,” he went on, “even if you and Vi were on opposite sides of the room…”

He gave a small shrug.

“Vi always looked at you like… like she’d do anything for you.”

He met Caitlyn’s eyes.

“Even when you didn’t look at her at all.”

For half a second, Caitlyn’s expression didn’t shift—but her eyes did. Just slightly. A flicker of something.

She tightened her grip on the cup. Not enough to be noticeable. Just enough to feel it.

That wasn’t the Vi she remembered. But maybe… she never looked hard enough.

“Maybe that’s why I never had the courage to say anything to you,” Mishel said, his voice gentler now. “Because I knew you were spoken for… and I’m not the type to interfere. Or meddle in someone else’s happiness just to secure my own.”

Caitlyn nodded slowly, eyes dropping to the rim of her cup. The ceramic felt cold now beneath her fingers.

She glanced out the window, watching people pass, letting his words hang in the air.

It sounded too good to be true. Too smooth. Too rehearsed.

And yet… she was inclined to believe it.

Then Mishel’s too-sweet voice broke through her thoughts again.

“But it’s all water under the bridge now,” he said lightly.

He chuckled. “Was I hoping the rumors were true? Maybe.”

He tilted his head, eyes on her.

“Maybe I was still holding out hope that I had a chance with you… that I could somehow use the situation to make myself available. Confess, even.”

He paused. The smile faded just a little.

“But—” he exhaled, watching her face, “if I wasn’t sure how you felt about Vi back in university… talking to you now has made me sure.”

Caitlyn’s brow furrowed slightly. She tilted her head, her voice steady but low.

“Sure of what?”

Mishel smiled again—quieter now. He brought his coffee to his lips, finished the rest in one long sip, and set the cup back down.

He wiped his mouth with a napkin, stood, and looked at her like he knew something she didn’t.

“That the marriage wasn’t an act,” he said. “The way your eyes light up and react when I mention Vi’s name… that’s not something anyone can fake.”

Caitlyn blinked. Once. Then again, too fast.

Her breath caught, subtle, nearly silent. Her fingers tensed slightly on the cup.

She didn’t feel like anything had changed. And yet somehow, something in her face had betrayed her anyway.

She was still confused.

She didn’t think she reacted any differently. Not in any way worth noticing.

“And how exactly do I react?” she asked, almost wary.

Mishel’s smile softened. He looked at her for a moment longer.

“Like you’re only thinking of Vi,” he said. “And no one else.”

Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“I’ll see you in the next aggressive council debate, Councilor Kiramman,” he said, the smile returning—just slightly smug now.

And then he turned and walked away.

Caitlyn stayed still, watching him go. She sat for a long moment, eyes narrowed slightly, the echo of his last words settling into the space he’d left behind.

Only then did she speak—quietly, to no one.

“Lanes-Kiramman,” she muttered. “It’s Councilor Lanes-Kiramman.”

Caitlyn made her way to her car, it was parked just outside the café.

Her heels hit the pavement in sharp, steady steps. Her jaw was set, expression neutral.

As she approached the black vehicle waiting at the curb, Sevika stepped out from the driver’s side and moved quickly around to open the back door for her.

Caitlyn gave her a brief nod, slid inside without a word, and settled back into the seat.

She still wasn’t in the mood to work today, and after her conversation with Mishel, she needed time to think.

To process the things he had said about her and Vi.

That coffee meeting didn’t yield any results.

While Mishel had said some very sincere things to her, she was still… suspicious.

The lines were too perfect, too practiced, too well-rehearsed—like he had planned to say exactly those.

Sevika returned to the driver’s seat. She glanced at Caitlyn through the rearview mirror, brow raised.

Caitlyn caught the look and answered quietly, “Home.”

Sevika gave a short nod, turned the key, and pulled into traffic.

It was early. Not even lunchtime yet.

Caitlyn leaned her head against the window for a moment. The glass was cool, impersonal.

Vi would be at the office.

And Caitlyn would have enough time to…

“To do what exactly?” she muttered.

Take her other things? Take her skincare products and makeup?

She sighed.

She didn’t know. She really didn’t know what she was going to do at the townhouse.

But right now… that’s where she wanted to be.

Home.

She just wanted to go home. To her house with Vi. And lay in bed all day.

The drive was short, and in a matter of minutes, they were parked at the townhouse.

Sevika was already out of the car and walking around to open Caitlyn’s door. She held it open without a word.

Caitlyn stepped out, her heels hitting the path with a dull thud.

“You can take off for the day,” she told her, eyes forward. “I won’t need you anymore.”

Sevika gave a quiet grunt in acknowledgment and got back into the car.

Caitlyn didn’t wait for her to leave.

She walked straight to the door, unlocked it, stepped inside, and dropped her bag at the base of the stairs with a soft thud. Her fingers lingered on the strap for a second before she pulled away.

The first thing she noticed—immediately—was the TV still on in the living room. Low volume, some late-morning talk show flickering on-screen.

Her eyebrows scrunched together.

Vi never leaves the TV on.

She stepped into the living room, her steps slow, eyes scanning the space—then stopped. Her jaw clenched hard.

Vi was asleep on the couch. Same clothes she wore last night when Caitlyn walked out. One leg hanging off the edge. Hair a mess. A half-finished bottle of wine and an empty bottle of whiskey sat on the coffee table, surrounded by half-crushed snack wrappers and open bags littering the floor.

But that wasn’t what annoyed her.

That wasn’t what made her chest tighten like something was closing in.

Their wedding photo—large, framed, the only thing in the house that actually said out loud they were married—was on the floor, glass shattered, the frame cracked.

It must’ve fallen. Or been thrown.

Next to it, Vi’s phone. Screen spider-webbed and dark.

Caitlyn stood there. Still. Breathing through her nose.

She closed her eyes. And thought—for a very long while—if this marriage was still worth the effort to fix, or if she was right to just walk away.

Because this? This looked like damage beyond repair.

She could still walk. She had her keys. She had time. She didn’t even have to say anything.

But as she turned that thought over again— just leave, just walk out —Vi stirred.

A groggy blink. A dry swallow. Then—

“Hey,” Vi rasped, her voice scratchy. “You’re home.”

Caitlyn sighed. Her shoulders rose with it.

She gave a small nod. “Yeah.”

Vi pushed herself up slightly, rubbing at one eye, then looked around slowly. At the bottles. The mess. The frame.

“Shit,” she muttered. “Sorry. For the mess.”

Her voice dipped low.

Then, quieter still, like she already knew the answer and hated it, “Are you staying?”

Caitlyn’s mouth opened. Then shut. Her hand flexed once at her side.

She sighed again.

Then turned.

And walked away.

“Fuck,” Vi muttered under her breath.

But she didn’t make a move to follow Caitlyn. No point. It’s not like it would change anything.

If Caitlyn wanted to leave, she would leave. Didn’t matter what Vi said. So better to just not say anything at all.

She looked around the living room, at the wreckage of the night—empty wrappers, half-finished wine, whiskey gone—and groaned, dragging a hand down her face. The couch creaked as she leaned forward.

After that very heated exchange with Powder earlier, Vi had decided to finish the whiskey bottle.

There wasn’t much else she could do anyway.

She’d told herself—swore, really—that after today, she wasn’t going to beg anymore. Not for Caitlyn to stay. Not for forgiveness. If Caitlyn wanted the divorce, then fine.

She’d give it.

After all, she was the one who asked for it first, right?

She let out a bitter laugh, low in her throat.

Besides, after what Powder said, it was clear—didn’t matter how much effort she put in now, she’d always be carrying that guilt. That weight. Even if Caitlyn stopped bringing it up, someone else would.

And she was just so fucking tired of it.

She got it. She made a huge fucking mistake. But no one wanted to move on from it.

It was funny, really—how no one ever notices when you do the good things. The little things. But the moment you fuck up, that’s all anyone remembers. That one moment becomes all you are.

Vi scoffed, loud and sharp. “Fucking saints, the lot of them.”

She reached for the bottle of wine. Still half full. Might as well finish that too—

“If you drink one more drop of alcohol today,” Caitlyn’s voice cut through, steady, sharp, “you’re sleeping on the couch again.”

Vi froze.

Her fingers hovered over the bottle’s neck.

She turned, startled, eyes locking onto Caitlyn crossing the room toward the broken wedding photo. A broom in one hand. The vacuum in the other.

Vi blinked. “I thought you left.”

Caitlyn didn’t look up. She bent down slightly to examine the shattered glass. “I can still leave,” she said evenly. “If that’s what you want.”

Vi stared at her. For a second, she couldn’t think of anything to say.

Her throat tightened.

Then quietly, “No… you could stay. If you want to.”

Chapter Text

Vi at 10, Caitlyn at 9, Powder at 3 (Kiramman Mansion, Piltover)

It was one of those days where Caitlyn didn’t want to do anything except play with her puzzle in the mansion’s playroom. It was a big puzzle too—1,000 pieces, spread out like a tiny cardboard sea. Uncle Vander gave it to her as a gift.

Uncle Vander was visiting with his children, Powder, who was three years old, and her older sister, Violet, who was ten.

Once a month, Uncle Vander would visit, and her parents would get so wrapped up in conversation they’d forget the kids entirely. Caitlyn didn’t mind. Her parents didn’t host guests often, and Uncle Vander had been her father’s friend forever. Since they were teens, apparently. Father said they worked at the same place when they were younger—some busy job she couldn’t remember—and had been close ever since.

She was fitting the corner piece in when she suddenly heard Violet’s voice echoing from the hallway, loud and annoyed, like always.

"Stop running, Powder! You're gonna trip again!"

Caitlyn huffed, eye twitching slightly. Violet was older than her by a year and already a certified menace—loud, obnoxious, constantly trying to one-up her or ruin her quiet moments. And worse, she was always being mean to her baby sister, Powder.

She leaned over her puzzle, near the finish line—just a few pieces left—when the doors burst open.

Her head snapped up, but her annoyance melted immediately. Powder wobbled into the room, small and wide-eyed, cheeks flushed from running.

“Caity,” Powder chirped in her tiny, unsure voice.

Caitlyn smiled. Powder still couldn’t say her name properly, but Caitlyn didn’t mind. “Hey, PowPow,” she said, holding out her arms. “C’mere, you little blob.”

Powder beamed and made a run for her—little legs quick and clumsy and—

CRASH.

In one tragic second, Powder clipped the edge of the table.

The puzzle—the almost-finished, hours-of-focus, 1,000-piece puzzle—toppled off the table and shattered into chaos on the floor.

Pieces everywhere.

Caitlyn gasped. “Oh—”

Powder froze.

Her lower lip quivered, eyes going wide as dinner plates. She looked at the mess, then at Caitlyn, then back at the mess again.

“I—I sowwy,” she sniffled, eyes watering. “I not mean to—Caity I—I—”

Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she stood there shaking, like she expected Caitlyn to yell, or cry, or both.

But Caitlyn didn’t get angry or annoyed. Not at all.

She looked at the puzzle—scattered like a miniature disaster across the rug—and just… shrugged. Then let out a soft huff. It was already ruined, and she didn’t have the patience to start over. So she wouldn’t. She’d leave it.

She turned to Powder, who was still sniffling quietly, tears rolling down her cheeks as she fidgeted where she stood.

Caitlyn reached out and gently patted the top of her head. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “You didn’t mean it, right? It’s fine.”

Powder’s bottom lip trembled again, but she leaned into Caitlyn’s hand.

Then Caitlyn opened her arms, and Powder immediately stepped into them, burying her face in Caitlyn’s chest.

“There we go,” Caitlyn whispered, rubbing small circles on her back. “No more crying, okay?”

Powder hiccupped, nose stuffy now, and whispered, “C-Caity not mad?”

Caitlyn shook her head. “Why would I be mad? It’s just a puzzle. I can do it again later.”

Powder blinked up at her, watery eyes wide. Then her lips curled slightly. “I sowwy…”

“I know,” Caitlyn said, smiling back.

Just then, Vi appeared by the doorway. Arms crossed. Tone sharp.

“What did you do this time?” she asked, eyes narrowing at Powder.

Powder whimpered and held Caitlyn tighter.

Caitlyn’s expression flattened as she looked at Vi.

“She didn’t do anything,” Caitlyn said, eyebrow lifting. “Why are you being mean again?”

Vi scoffed. “She’s always breaking stuff. She’s clumsy and annoying.”

“She’s a baby,” Caitlyn snapped. “All babies are clumsy. That doesn’t mean you get to be mean to her.”

Vi groaned and leaned against the door frame. “I’m not being mean. But if she gets hurt, Dad’s gonna yell at me. I’m the one who’s supposed to watch her, remember?”

Her voice pitched higher, sharper. “I can’t even get a minute of peace without her hanging on me. She’s always… there. She never leaves me alone.”

Powder whimpered again, trying to disappear into Caitlyn’s shirt.

Caitlyn huffed, straightened up, and scooped the little girl into her arms.

“Well, go have your moment of peace then,” she said, voice clipped. “I’ll watch her.”

Vi opened her mouth like she wanted to argue—but didn’t. She just rolled her eyes and walked away, muttering something under her breath.

Caitlyn turned her attention back to Powder, who had curled into her shoulder, arms around Caitlyn’s neck.

“How about we go to my room instead?” Caitlyn murmured, pressing a light kiss to the top of her head. “I’ve got a big dollhouse. We can decorate it any way you like.”

Powder sniffled again, but this time she nodded—tiny, hopeful.

That night, Uncle Vander and his children spent the night. It was probably because Uncle Vander and Caitlyn’s father had another drinking session.

Caitlyn’s mother, Cassandra, didn’t mind this at all—she always said Tobias only did it once a month, and she wasn’t going to be an obstacle to her husband’s happiness. Or so she claimed.

Caitlyn was already asleep when the knock came. Sharp. Quick. Repeated.

Her eyes blinked open slowly, her eyebrows scrunching together in annoyance.

She groaned softly, pulled the blanket off, and padded over to the door, still half in a dream.

When she opened it, Powder was standing there. Sniffling. Her stuffed rabbit clutched so tightly her knuckles were white.

Caitlyn blinked. “What’s wrong?” she mumbled, voice hoarse from sleep. “Bad dream?”

Powder shook her head fast, blue hair bouncing everywhere.

“Vi... said Powpow can’t sleep on her bed,” she whimpered. “Not want me.”

Her eyes were already glossy. “I scawed...”

Caitlyn sighed, rubbing one eye with the heel of her hand. “You can sleep here,” she said softly. “Okay? My bed’s big. You won’t get scared.”

Powder sniffled and gave a tiny nod.

“You want that?” Caitlyn added, a little gentler now. “Wanna stay with me?”

“Uh-huh...”

Caitlyn stepped aside and held out her hand. Powder took it, her fingers damp and warm. Caitlyn led her in, helped her up onto the bed, and pulled the blanket over her—tucking the stuffed rabbit in next to her chest like it mattered.

“Don’t worry, there are no monsters in here,” Caitlyn whispered as she lay down beside her. “They know better than to come into my room.”

Powder gave a quiet, tired giggle. “No monsers…”

“That’s right.” Caitlyn turned her head. “Go to sleep, PowPow.”

She felt the little girl curl into her side, her breathing slowing, and before long, both of them were out.

The next morning, Caitlyn woke to shouting.

A deep voice—rough, angry, echoing across the hall.

She sat up groggily. The light from the window told her it was early.

The yelling was coming from Vi’s room, directly across from hers.

She got up quietly, walked to the door, and cracked it open.

Uncle Vander’s voice boomed through the hallway. “How do you lose your sister in someone else’s house, Vi?! How?!”

“I thought—” Vi’s voice snapped back, defensive. “I thought she got up early! Maybe she went downstairs! How was I supposed to know she was missing?!”

“You were supposed to be responsible!” Vander barked. “You were supposed to check!”

Caitlyn opened the door a little wider, stepping into the hall. Vander turned, mid-scold, and the moment he saw her, his face softened.

He bent a little, lowering his voice. “Did we wake you, sweetheart?”

Caitlyn nodded. “Yes.”

Then, calmly, she added, “Powder’s in my room.”

Vander’s eyebrows lifted. “She is?”

He straightened up. “What’s she doing there?”

Caitlyn kept her expression even. “She got scared last night,” she said, carefully. “She didn’t wanna wake Violet… so she came to me.”

She shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. “I didn’t mind.”

Vander let out a deep breath. “Okay… I’ll go get her. She needs a bath—we’ll be leaving soon.”

He turned and headed into her room, patting Caitlyn’s head as he passed her.

Once he was out of earshot, Caitlyn turned to Vi.

She raised an eyebrow.

“If you weren’t so mean to her,” she said, her voice low but sharp, “and just let her sleep beside you, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten yelled at this morning.”

Vi’s arms crossed over her chest, tight. Her jaw moved, like she wanted to say something—anything—but the words never came.

Then Vander emerged, carrying Powder in his arms. She looked tiny in his hold, half-asleep still, her cheek pressed to his shoulder.

Neither of the girls said another word.

Vi at 12, Caitlyn at 11, Powder at 5 (Lanes Ranch, Zaun)

Vi looked out the window of her dad’s car as they were driving to one of the farthest parts of Zaun, where the noise of machinery and toxic air couldn’t reach. Her cheek was pressed to the glass, watching smoke-stained towers fade into trees, warehouses giving way to open sky.

They didn’t come here often.

Her dad’s ranch sat tucked between the hills, far from the chaos. Horses, a few big dogs, just enough space for the adults to pretend the city didn’t exist. It wasn’t massive or anything, but it was enough—for hunting trips, weekend rides, and too many “family traditions” that mostly involved mud, meat, and mosquitoes.

Her dad, Vander, was big on tradition.

Traditions like monthly drinking sessions with Uncle Tobias, summer and winter trips, and the occasional drive out to the ranch to go camping or hunting.

Same with Uncle Tobias and Aunt Cassandra. They went on these hunting trips all the time, said it started way before any of them had kids, and they kept it going like it was some sacred rite. Once they had children, they just folded them in.

But Vi didn’t care much for the ritual. Not today.

This was the first trip without her mom.

Her mother, Felicia, had never liked these trips anyway. “Too tiring, too many bugs,” she used to say with a laugh and then she’d smile soft and stay home with a book. But lately, there hadn’t been books. Just medicine bottles. And silence.

And now she was gone.

Vi blinked hard and stared harder out the window.

Her dad’s voice came, steady from the front. “Hey, Powder’s gonna be trying the pony today. Thought it was time.”

Vi didn’t answer right away. Her jaw clenched slightly.

Vander glanced back at her through the mirror. “She’s nervous. I figured I’d stay with her. You don’t have to stick around this time.”

Vi looked at him, brow raised.

“You’re not putting me on Powder duty?”

“Nope.” Vander gave her a tired half-smile. “Go have some fun with Caitlyn. She’s already there with Aunt Cassie and Uncle Toby.”

Vi didn’t say anything for a moment. Just nodded once and looked back out the window.

Powder, in the back seat, was swinging her feet and grinning. “Do I get a real saddle?” she asked. “Like the one with the red trim?”

“We’ll see,” Vander said, voice lightening as he reached back to pat her leg.

Vi didn’t turn away from the window. She didn’t feel like talking.

She was still mad. Not at Powder. Not at her dad.

Just… mad.

She was twelve, but she felt older lately. Heavy in a way she couldn’t explain.

Felicia had been sick for so long, and Vander had done everything he could. But with two kids, one of them still needing help with shoelaces, there hadn’t been a lot of time for anything.

Vi had spent the last couple years watching Powder, keeping her out of trouble, stopping her from putting rocks in her mouth, making sure she didn’t fall into the dog poop.

She hated it. She hated all of it.

She couldn’t play on her own. Couldn’t play with her friends. She hardly had a moment to herself. Hardly a moment with her mom.

But she never said anything.

Not when her mom was sick. Not when her dad came home too tired to talk.

When Felicia passed away, Vi shut down.

She didn’t cry in front of anyone. Didn’t talk much either. And now everything felt different.

When they got to the ranch, Vi jumped out quickly and made her way to the stables. Her boots hit the dirt hard, and she didn’t wait for anyone to call after her.

She’d been riding since she was Powder’s age, so she already knew pretty much what to do. Saddle, reins, mount. Easy.

When she got there, Caitlyn—snobby, aloof, and always right—was already at the stables too, already mounted on her horse.

Well… not really her horse. It was still her dad’s, but it was the only one Caitlyn ever rode when she was here with her parents. Sleek, pale gray, always brushed down like it belonged in some rich person’s calendar.

Vi slowed a bit as she approached. Caitlyn looked over, just a glance. No smile, of course.

But she did speak.

“Good morning,” Caitlyn said, voice polite. Stiff.

Vi nodded. “Morning.”

She and Caitlyn weren’t really good friends. Despite practically growing up together, they had absolutely nothing in common.

Vi liked boxing and basketball and running around until her legs gave out. Caitlyn liked hunting, like her parents. Quiet, focused, slow. Vi was loud. Caitlyn was… reserved. They barely got along.

Still, Caitlyn loved playing with Powder. And when Vi was getting annoyed at her baby sister, Caitlyn would usually step in, take Powder somewhere else, distract her with sticks and stories and made-up ranger games.

She was… nice. When she felt like it.

Usually, Vi would be on Caitlyn’s case too. Teasing. Poking. Calling her “Princess” or “Cupcake” just to watch her roll her eyes. She didn’t even know why she liked doing it so much.

Maybe she just wanted the attention. Or a reaction. Because Caitlyn was always so… blank.

But today?

Vi wasn’t really in the mood.

Her horse was already saddled, and Vi mounted quickly, swinging one leg over and adjusting the reins with practiced ease.

But before she could leave, Caitlyn’s voice cut through the morning air.

“We’re supposed to ride together.”

Vi paused, exhaled sharply through her nose, then glanced over her shoulder with a tired glare.

“You never really liked spending time with me,” she muttered. “So I don’t see why it matters if we ride together or not.”

Caitlyn huffed from atop her horse. She didn’t look at Vi when she answered.

“It’s not like I’d enjoy it either,” she said flatly. “But my mother said if I want to ride further out, I have to trail behind you. You know the ranch better than I do.”

Vi groaned and tilted her head back, clearly irritated. She rubbed at her temple for a second before dropping her hand to the saddle horn.

“Fine,” she grunted. “But you better keep up.”

With that, Vi rode out of the stables without looking back.

She wasn’t really riding at top speed—just fast enough to leave Caitlyn behind. That was the point.

She wasn’t in the mood to babysit Powder today, and she definitely wasn’t in the mood to play nice with Caitlyn either.

As she rode past the paddocks, she caught a quick glimpse of Vander lifting Powder off the ground and setting her gently on the fence near the stables. Powder was squirming in his arms, clearly buzzing with nerves, and pointing at a pony that was barely taller than a large dog.

Vi didn’t slow down.

Caitlyn trailed behind her—slowly. Excruciatingly slowly.

Vi glanced back, barely turning her head, and rolled her eyes. “Any slower and you’d be riding backwards,” she muttered under her breath.

She kicked lightly at her horse’s side and pushed forward, letting the distance grow.

In the distance, she could already hear Powder wailing. That shrill, hiccuping cry that meant she was scared. Too scared to get on the pony, apparently.

Vi sighed sharply. “She was excited just five minutes ago,” she mumbled, “what the hell happened?”

She turned again—Caitlyn was still behind her, taking her sweet time like they were out for a scenic photo op.

It grated on Vi’s nerves.

She wanted to ride faster. Feel the wind on her face. Disappear into the horizon like some bad movie ending. Just… get out.

She twisted around in the saddle and cupped a hand around her mouth. “Can you move your horse any faster, Princess?!”

Caitlyn didn’t answer. Didn’t speed up either.

Of course.

Vi clenched her jaw. “Always gotta do whatever the hell you want, huh?”

Fine.

She turned back around and kicked off harder, her horse picking up speed beneath her.

If Caitlyn wanted to follow her, she would.

Vi wasn’t waiting.

Not today.

Vi laid on the grass, under the shade of a large tree.

It was a wonder how such a tree could even grow in Zaun, let alone stay this big, this healthy—but maybe that was because of how far the ranch was from the city. The smog couldn’t reach this far. The noise. The mess.

Some things just tend to thrive when they’re far away from toxicity.

Vi stared up at the canopy, watching the way the sunlight filtered through the leaves. She’d been lying there for maybe ten minutes, barely moving, barely thinking—just breathing.

Then she heard hooves.

Caitlyn finally showed up.

Vi didn’t move. Just let her eyes drift down slightly as Caitlyn came into view.

Caitlyn didn’t say anything at first. She just looked at Vi for a second, then sighed through her nose—quiet, tight.

Vi watched her from the corner of her eye as Caitlyn dismounted, tied her horse loosely to a low branch, and walked over.

She sat beside Vi without a word. No huffing. No complaints. Just sat there, legs folded neatly beneath her.

A few more minutes passed.

Then Caitlyn finally spoke.

“I heard about your mom,” she said softly. “I’m… sorry.”

Vi grunted. Didn’t look at her. She rolled onto her side, her back now to Caitlyn.

She didn’t answer.

Caitlyn didn’t say anything more either.

They just sat there in silence. The wind pushed through the grass around them. The tree creaked above them.

Then Vi felt it—fingers in her hair.

She blinked, turned her head slightly, then all the way—raising a brow at Caitlyn.

“What are you doing?” she asked, low and suspicious.

Caitlyn shrugged, her hand still moving gently through Vi’s hair.

“My mom does this,” she murmured. “When I feel sad. Or when I don’t want to talk.”

She paused. Her fingers slowed, but didn’t stop.

“It’s not much… but it makes me feel better.”

Vi didn’t say anything. Just stared at her for a moment longer, then turned her head back and let her body settle again.

She lay back down, pillowed by her arms, her back still turned.

Caitlyn didn’t stop.

They stayed like that for a while.

Vi just looked at the grass—still, silent—while Caitlyn combed her fingers gently through her hair.

It was nice.

It was quiet. Peaceful.

And… warm.

She liked the warmth.

Chapter Text

“You don’t have to clean that up,” Vi said, her voice hoarse as she groggily pushed herself off the couch. “That was my fault. I’ll clean it.”

She took a step forward, stumbled slightly, catching herself on the edge of the armrest. Her balance was still off—she was definitely still a bit drunk.

“Besides, you might get hurt with the broken glass,” she added, glancing down at the shards on the floor. Her jaw clenched. She hated how she looked—messy, unwashed, and clearly out of it. She hated even more that Caitlyn had to see her like this.

Caitlyn didn’t stop what she was doing. She just glanced up, calm as ever.

“It’s fine,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “Go take a shower. Sober up.”

Vi sighed. Her eyes lingered on Caitlyn’s hands as she carefully picked up the larger pieces of shattered glass and placed them together in a pile on the floor.

She didn’t look angry. Just… tired.

Vi stood there, not sure if she should keep watching or say something else.

Caitlyn straightened up and walked toward the kitchen. Her footsteps were steady. Controlled.

When she came back, she was carrying a small bin.

Vi watched her go. Watched her come back.

There was a strange heaviness in her chest—something like relief, maybe, but buried under a quiet kind of sadness. The kind that settles in when you know something’s ending, even if no one’s said it out loud yet.

After a pause, she spoke again.

“You sure?” she asked, voice softer this time, hesitant.

Caitlyn didn’t look at her. She crouched back down and said, “I’m fine. I’ll clean up.”

Vi nodded, slowly. Still not sure if she should let her. Still not sure what this meant.

But she didn’t argue.

She turned and started walking up the stairs, dragging one hand along the railing for balance.

By the time she reached the bedroom, she felt the weight of everything again—dull, slow, pressing down hard on her shoulders.

She turned on the shower. Let the water run cold at first, then hot. Stripped off her clothes, stepped in, leaned her head against the tile wall.

And thought.

Why did Caitlyn come back?

She looked so certain last night. So sure that the divorce was what she wanted.

Vi swallowed hard, water running down her face.

Part of her wanted to believe Caitlyn changed her mind.

But a bigger part of her didn’t want to hope.

She let out a quiet sigh, steam curling around her, and closed her eyes.

As much as she wanted to stay married to Caitlyn, their relationship had run its course.

Powder was right.

It was time to move on.

Vi took her time in the shower, letting the hot water roll over her skin until her head didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

When she came out of the bathroom—finally fresh, towel drying her hair, and her mind a little clearer—Caitlyn was waiting for her.

She paused at the door, caught off guard.

Caitlyn was sitting on the edge of the bed, back straight, shoulders tense. Her hands were clasped together between her knees. She didn’t look up. Just stared at the floor, her expression hard to read from where Vi stood.

But she looked… distant. Like her mind had left the room and taken all her warmth with it.

Vi’s grip on the towel tightened.

She wondered what Caitlyn was thinking.
Was she thinking of trying again?
Was she thinking of ending things completely?
Was she sad? Or happy? Or hopeful, like Vi still was?

Vi clenched her jaw, took a slow breath through her nose, and pushed the thoughts down—deep.

She wasn’t supposed to hope for that anymore. Not after last night.

Caitlyn had been clear. She wanted the divorce.

And Vi had said she’d give it to her—even if it gutted her to do it.

She glanced away, tossed the towel into the hamper, and walked toward her dresser in silence. She didn’t trust her voice not to crack.

Shit, I really don’t want to, she thought.

The past two weeks—of trying, really trying—had been the best two weeks of her married life. Not perfect. But finally real.

Caitlyn had been warmer. More open. She let Vi in. Talked to her. Touched her. Reached for her in bed instead of pulling away.

Vi had felt it. In the kisses that lingered. In the way they’d laughed during dinner, or touched each other in the kitchen, or laid in bed after making love without turning away.

For the first time since they got married, Vi had actually felt married.

Not just on paper. But in every way that mattered.

The kisses had been softer.
The sex—hotter.
The feelings—undeniably, painfully real.

But maybe…

Maybe that was just Vi.

Maybe it was real, but only for her.

“So, why’d you come home, Cait? Did you forget something?” Vi asked, pulling a shirt over her head.

She tried to keep her voice even—casual, even—but it came out rougher than she wanted. A little too dry.

She heard Caitlyn shift slightly on the bed behind her. A soft sigh followed. The kind that meant something was coming, but not fast.

Vi could feel Caitlyn’s eyes on her back as she tugged her jeans up and buttoned them.

Then Caitlyn spoke, voice careful. Slower than usual.

“I met with Mishel earlier.”

Vi’s jaw clenched.

The name alone made her chest tighten. Annoyance flared up fast, sharp—but like everything else she’d been feeling since last night, she shoved it down before it showed.

She shrugged, kept her back to Caitlyn. “Okay.”

She tried not to sound bitter. She really did. But even to her own ears, it came out clipped.

She was sure Caitlyn heard it too.

Vi let out a breath and sighed. “So what was so important that you had to see Mishel?”

There was a pause. Too long.

Vi finished dressing, then turned around, her brow creased.

Caitlyn looked up at her, tired. Her shoulders stiff.

Then she exhaled—quiet, resigned—and finally answered.

“I wanted to talk to him,” she said. “To figure out if he had anything to do with the photos. The ones of you with… her. The rumors. The tabloids.”

Vi looked away immediately. Her gaze dropped to the floor, and she shook her head once, slow.

She ran a hand down her face, then across the back of her neck. Everything felt tight.

Still silent, Vi crossed the room and sat down next to Caitlyn. The bed dipped slightly under her weight.

She didn’t say anything yet.

Just sat there.

The quiet between them said enough.

“You still didn’t answer my question, though,” Vi said, voice low.

She didn’t look at Caitlyn when she said it. Just kept her eyes on the floor between her boots. “Why’d you come home?”

Caitlyn didn’t answer. She only gave Vi a soft smile—small, tired, barely there.

It didn’t reach her eyes.

So they just sat there in silence again, a heavy stillness between them that neither of them tried to break for a while.

Then Caitlyn spoke, her voice slower this time, measured.

“I haven’t signed the divorce papers yet,” she said quietly. “Mel hasn’t sent them.”

Vi nodded once. A stiff, shallow movement.

“When you do,” she muttered, “just have your lawyer send them over. I’ll sign too.”

She grit her teeth as the words left her mouth.

Her head was still down, eyes locked on the carpet, so Caitlyn wouldn’t see the way her face twisted—how much that sentence cost her.

Conceding. Finally. Like all the fight had just slipped out of her.

There was a long pause. Then Caitlyn exhaled.

“I’m not sure I want to sign them,” she said, just above a whisper.

Vi didn’t move.

“Maybe it’s better to just… not go through with the divorce anymore.”

Vi scoffed, loud and sharp, before she could stop herself.

Her fingers curled against her knees.

Of course. Now Caitlyn says this.

She hated how fickle Caitlyn sounded. Hated even more how her heart jumped the second Caitlyn said it.

But she forced herself to turn and meet Caitlyn’s eyes anyway.

And when she spoke, her voice came out flat. Tight.

“What’s the point of staying married,” she said, “if we can’t seem to make anything work?”

She continued, without waiting for Caitlyn to answer, her voice tight and picking up speed with each word.

“We tried. I’m not saying we didn’t,” Vi said, jaw clenching. “But honestly, Cait. If we don’t get divorced now, we still will. Eventually.”

She laughed once—dry, humorless.

“Because the second it’s no longer convenient for you—when something upsets you, or makes you doubt us, or pisses you off—you’ll just ask for another divorce.”

She looked away, biting the inside of her cheek.

“I can’t keep doing this push and pull,” she muttered. “I can’t.”

Caitlyn shook her head slowly, her lips tightening. “You talk like I didn’t try.”

The bitterness in her voice was soft, but it hit hard.

Vi scoffed, eyes narrowing.

“You did,” she said, not denying it. “You did try.”

Her voice cracked—just slightly. She pushed through it.

“And then two weeks later, you gave up,” Vi continued, standing now, pacing toward the dresser with fast steps. “You asked for a divorce because you didn’t have the balls to stay and figure shit out with me.”

Her chest rose sharply as her breath caught. She turned away quickly and ran both hands down her face, dragging them over her mouth.

Her eyes were wet.

She wiped them fast, like she was just rubbing her forehead. Didn’t want Caitlyn to see.

“This isn’t easy,” Vi said, voice shaking now. “Marriage isn’t some fucking walk in the park or a fairy tale with—whatever. Rainbows. Butterflies.”

She looked back toward Caitlyn, frustrated, heart pounding.

“Normal marriages go through hell. That’s with people who are actually in love. So what about us, huh?” she snapped. “What about two people who aren't on the same page about love? About the marriage?”

She let out a rough breath. “It’s twice as hard.”

Then her voice dropped—low and tired.

“No matter how many times we try… it just—it looks hopeless.”

She paused. Her arms dropped to her sides.

“And then there’s the affair,” she added, quieter now. “Like I don’t already feel like shit for it. Like I don’t know I fucked up.”

Her voice wavered again.

“But how are we supposed to start over,” she whispered, “when it keeps getting thrown in my face? Again. And again.”

She turned her back to Caitlyn, pressing her palms flat on the dresser as she lowered her head.

Then she sighed. Long. Drained.

Done.

“We should stop,” she said, barely audible now. “We should just… let each other go.”

“You gave up first,” Caitlyn told her quietly.

It was barely above a whisper, but Vi heard it. Loud and clear.

She scoffed—bitter, sharp.

“I gave up after years of getting nothing from you,” she shot back, her voice rising with each word. “ Years , Caitlyn.”

Her fists clenched at her sides.

Then, like something inside her finally snapped—or settled—she let her shoulders drop and her voice soften.

“You know what?” she said, her tone shifting. “It doesn’t even matter anymore.”

Vi looked away for a moment, then back at Caitlyn, her mouth tugging into a crooked, joyless smile.

“You know what?” she said, turning to face Caitlyn now, her eyes glassy but defiant. “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”

Caitlyn blinked, startled—but Vi didn’t wait for a reaction.

“Okay—maybe not in love. I don’t know. I was a dumb kid. But I liked you. I knew I liked you, even if I didn’t know why.”

Her lips twitched, not quite a smile, more like something bitter getting stuck halfway out.

“So when our parents started talking about marriage—when we both presented, and it conveniently worked out—I thought, ‘This is it.’”

She gave a dry laugh and looked down.

“Maybe you’d finally notice me. Maybe when we were mated, you’d learn to love me too. Or at least… see me.”

Her voice got quieter.

“But that didn’t happen.”

She stepped back, leaning against the wall, arms folded tight across her chest.

“You didn’t want to be claimed. And after the marriage, we were no closer than we were back when we were ten and you’d barely say two words to me.”

She stared straight ahead now, her face a little blank, like she couldn’t let herself feel it all at once.

“I tried,” she said softly. “Janna, I tried so many times to get you to see me. To want me. And then… I just stopped.”

She swallowed hard, the tears pressing behind her eyes now.

“I gave up,” she whispered. “Accepted that it just wasn’t meant to be.”

Vi looked away, jaw tight. Her hand came up to wipe at her cheek, subtle and fast, before anything could fall.

“It was selfish of me,” she said. “to hope that marriage might make you fall in love with me. The way I… the way I loved you.”

She rubbed the back of her neck. Her mouth opened and closed once before she continued.

“And it was selfish of me to cheat,” she added, voice lower now, almost shaking. “To be with someone else when I realized you’d never love me back. That you were only married to me in name, on paper.”

Vi paused.

There was a long beat of silence.

Then, with a sharp breath, she looked back at Caitlyn—face tense, but her gaze steady.

“I’m sure it looks selfish, too,” she muttered, “that I sent those photos to your lawyer. That I started those rumors with the tabloids.”

Caitlyn’s head jerked up, eyes wide.

“What?”

But Vi kept going, like it was too late to take any of it back now.

“I did it,” she said. “I sent the photos. I started the rumors.”

She took a shaky breath and pressed a hand to her chest, like it might steady the pounding beneath it.

“I was ready to be the villain in our marriage,” she admitted. “Just so you could walk away with your head held high. Divorce me without anyone blaming you.”

Vi looked at her, eyes glassy but voice steady.

“Because as much as I wanted out back then… the last thing I wanted was to ruin you .”

Then Vi sank down onto the floor and leaned her back against the dresser, her legs bent in front of her, arms resting over her knees.

She exhaled sharply through her nose.

“We shouldn’t have gotten married,” she muttered, voice low. “I shouldn’t have hoped.”

She stared at a spot on the floor, her voice flattening as she went on.

“We wasted so much time. And we just ended up right back where we started—different corners, still worlds apart.”

She lifted her eyes to Caitlyn, who was still on the edge of the bed. Still frozen in place. Still staring.

Her face hadn’t moved much since Vi’s confession—brows furrowed, mouth parted slightly, like she was still trying to process what Vi had said.

Vi let out a breath. “If you’re angry at me… for the photos, the rumors—I get it.”

She shrugged, just once. “I’m prepared for that.”

Caitlyn didn’t answer. But Vi saw her lip press between her teeth. A flicker in her eyes. The small crease forming deeper between her brows.

That was enough of a reaction.

Vi glanced away.

“You don’t have to leave,” she said after a beat. “This is your house too. Your name’s on everything.”

Her voice dipped lower.

“I’ll move out.”

A pause.

“When we get divorced… when we start splitting things—you can keep the house.”

She looked back at Caitlyn.

Still nothing.

Then Vi’s expression softened, and her voice dropped to a whisper.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

The words hung there, heavy.

“For everything.”

Another pause.

“For the marriage. For the affair. For the photos. For the rumors. For giving up.”

Caitlyn was still processing everything Vi had said.

It wasn’t easy—because Vi had unloaded a lot.

She stared at her—Vi, still sitting on the floor, back slumped, eyes down, not meeting her gaze. She looked smaller like that. Quiet. Beaten down.

And Caitlyn… she hadn’t expected any of it.

Not the confession about the photos. Or the rumors. Especially not that.

Vi was the last person she would’ve suspected. Of all people, she never imagined it was her.

Those photos were damning. Caitlyn knew that. They could have destroyed Vi—her credibility, her position, her name.

And yet… Vi sent them. To Caitlyn’s lawyer.

All for what?

Her mind repeated Vi’s words. Just so you could walk away with your head held high.

Caitlyn’s throat tightened.

So she did that for my sake?

Was she supposed to be grateful? Was that what this was? Some tragic attempt at nobility?

She should be angry. She should be furious. Betrayed. Outraged.

But she wasn’t.

Just like she hadn’t been when she found out about the affair.

No rage. No screaming. No tears.

Just… indifference.

The photos, the rumors about their failing marriage—none of it mattered to her. Not really. She never even cared about them. She only dug because she wanted to know who would go out of their way to hurt Vi like that.

Well.

Now she knew.

She thought she could brush it off. Pretend this was no different than every other moment they’d managed to disappoint each other. Like the affair. Like asking for the divorce.

But she couldn’t.

Not this time.

Because somewhere along the way… she’d started to care.

She bit down on her lip—harder this time—trying to keep her face calm.

It didn’t work.

Her hand clenched slightly in her lap, nails digging into her palm.

And then—quietly, almost too soft to hear—she convinced herself to speak.

“I came home because I realized I didn’t want to stop being married to you,” Caitlyn said softly, her voice barely rising above the quiet between them. “Even though things were difficult between us… I still want to stay. I still want to keep trying.”

Vi's head lifted slightly. Her eyes locked onto Caitlyn’s for a second—wide, confused, not daring to believe it—but she didn’t speak. Her lips parted, then pressed shut again as if anything she said might break whatever this was becoming.

Caitlyn let out a long breath and sat up straighter, steadying herself.

“Last night, I was overwhelmed,” she admitted, voice low. “With everything. But when I was finally alone, all I wanted… was to take it back.”

She licked her lips. Kept her gaze steady.

“I may not have loved you the way you wanted me to,” she said carefully, “but Vi… I cared.”

Vi blinked once—like she’d been hit. Her shoulders hunched, and she looked away, jaw tight. She dragged her hand through her hair and wiped at her cheek without making a sound.

Caitlyn’s throat tightened, but she kept going.

“I was starting to enjoy being married,” she said with a bitter laugh, eyes darting to the floor. “It actually felt good… the way things were going between us.”

Another laugh slipped out—smaller this time, more bitter than anything else. Then came a soft scoff.

“I even started thinking of letting you claim me,” she added, “have the baby you always talked about wanting.”

Vi’s head snapped toward her then, startled—eyes wide and stunned, like she wasn’t sure if she’d heard that right.

But Caitlyn didn’t give her time to respond.

She stood up, brushing her skirt smooth with shaking fingers.

“But… I guess it’s too late now,” she said quietly. “Maybe that’s my fault. And that’s fine.”

She turned toward the door. Her spine was straight, her jaw locked.

“I’m not going to keep you where you don’t want to be kept.”

Something cracked inside her chest—sharp and quiet. She could feel the tears pressing at the back of her eyes, a sting that wouldn’t go away, but she didn’t let them fall.

She reached for the doorknob.

Then paused.

And without turning around, she said—softer this time, steadier:

“For the record… I didn’t do things for you only when it was convenient for me.”

Her fingers curled around the knob.

“Those two weeks?” she said, voice trembling just once, “were the most inconvenient for me.”

She swallowed. Hard.

“I did things I’d never done before,” she whispered. “I stepped out of the box where I always felt safe… because I wanted to make our marriage work.”

Then Caitlyn’s eyes landed on her hand on the doorknob.

On the rings on her finger.

The engagement ring that Vi had picked out for her when they announced they were getting married, and the wedding ring she wore stacked neatly on top of it.

She could still remember the day they went to the Kiramman family jeweler.

She and Vi hadn’t talked much during the process—not really—but Vi had insisted the stone be something Caitlyn actually liked. Not just some bland, traditional diamond.

So Caitlyn picked a deep sapphire as the centerpiece. Her favorite. The dark blue gem set in white gold, surrounded by tiny princess-cut diamonds. It had felt like the only personal part of their engagement, back then.

She didn’t remember a time she wasn’t wearing them.

The rings had been on her finger from the day Vi gave them to her. She never took them off. Not once.

Caitlyn’s gaze lingered.

Then, slowly, she lifted her hand.

She stared at the rings for a moment longer—lips pressed tight, face still.

And then she took them off.

Her fingers moved gently. The action itself was simple. Quick.

But that thing inside her—the part that had cracked earlier—felt like it shattered clean through.

She swallowed, blinked hard, and spoke without turning around.

“I’m sorry too,” she said softly.

Her voice caught slightly, but she kept going.

“Sorry that I couldn’t be the wife you imagined me to be. The kind of wife you expected.”

Vi didn’t respond. Caitlyn didn’t wait.

“I really tried,” she said, placing the rings in her palm, staring down at them one last time. “I did everything you asked of me after we made our new agreement. Even the things that made me uncomfortable.”

A breath left her. Barely audible.

Then, a faint smile tugged at her lips—bitter, maybe, but not insincere.

“I didn’t just do them to appease you, though,” she added. “I did them because I wanted to. Because I wanted to be a good wife to you.”

She stepped toward the small table by the door and placed the rings down, one by one.

“But two weeks of trying…” she murmured, “that’s nothing compared to the years you spent trying, right?”

Her throat tightened again.

She stared at the rings a second longer, then finally stepped back and reached for the doorknob.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, quieter now. “That I take so much longer to process things. My emotions. Yours. The emotions of people around me.”

She let out a breath and looked down. “I always need a map, otherwise I get lost in all of it.”

Then she opened the door.

The light from the hallway spilled in.

“Maybe you were right,” she said, pausing on the threshold. “Maybe when you first asked for the divorce… that should’ve been it.”

Her hand tightened briefly on the knob.

“Maybe trying to make it work was the bigger mistake.”

She didn’t wait for an answer.

“I’ll be in my office,” she said, then stepped out and closed the door behind her.

Caitlyn walked to her office slowly, her composure intact till the very end.

Her shoulders were straight. Her face calm. Not a single crack visible.

When she reached the door, she pushed it open and stepped inside—but didn’t bother turning on the lights.

The room was dim, the curtains half-drawn, only soft daylight spilling in through the slats.

She crossed the space without a word and sat at her desk.

Her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her back remained straight.

Then—without warning, without drama—the tears started to fall.

There was no sound.

No sniffles. No sobbing.

Just quiet.

The kind of crying that doesn’t ask for attention or sympathy. The kind that seeps out because there’s no space left to hold it in.

She didn’t even lift a hand to wipe them away.

She just let them fall.

And she didn’t know if she was crying for the marriage that was ending—

—or for the one that never had a chance to begin.

The moment Caitlyn left, Vi leaned her head back against the dresser and let it thud—once.

Then again.

And again.

Not hard. Just enough to feel it. Just enough to maybe knock some fucking sense into herself.

She closed her eyes, jaw clenched tight.

“Stupid,” she muttered under her breath.

She wanted to go after Caitlyn. Say something. Anything. Take it all back.

But damn it—they’d already said too much. Too many things that couldn’t be unsaid.

And Vi meant it earlier. She couldn’t take much more of this push and pull they kept doing. It was tearing her apart.

But still— fuck , it hurt. Deep.

Especially hearing Caitlyn admit it. That she wanted to keep trying. That she really wanted to make it work. That she even thought about the baby.

Vi’s throat burned.

Everything in their marriage had always been off somehow, misaligned, like puzzle pieces that almost fit but never do. And just when she thought maybe—maybe—they were finally clicking into place, something else fell apart.

And every time she convinced herself to let go…

Something made her want to stay.

She pushed off the dresser slowly, her steps sluggish as she walked across the room.

She stopped in front of the small table by the door—where Caitlyn had left her rings.

Her fingers hovered for a moment over her own.

Then, with a slow, shaky breath, Vi slid her wedding ring off.

She stared at it in her palm.

Then set it gently beside Caitlyn’s.

No point wearing it now.

Not when there was no marriage left to hold it up.

Chapter Text

I don’t want anything in our broken home
Not the memories or the things we own
Not the picture of us on the wall
So take what you want

Vi moved out the next day.

Her exit was quiet. No drama. No tears. No more fighting.

And no kiss goodbye either.

She just stood there in the doorway for a moment, staring at Caitlyn’s sleeping form on their bed, her expression tight, unreadable even to herself. Her eyes scanned every curve, every line of Caitlyn’s back, the way her fingers curled near the edge of the blanket, how her breathing barely stirred the pillow.

Then Vi whispered, barely audible, “Sleep well, Cait.”

She didn’t expect an answer. Didn’t get one.

Just quiet steps. A duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

And the front door clicked shut sometime before dawn.

She didn’t take much.

A few clothes. Suits for work. Some shoes. Her skincare.

That was it.

No jewelry. No photos. Not even anything from her office.

“I’ll figure it out later,” she muttered to herself while locking her car.

Maybe she would. Maybe she wouldn’t.

When she got to her condo downtown, the silence hit harder than she expected.

It felt cold.

Detached.

Too clean.

Too quiet.

The fridge was half-stocked—beer, soda, a few bottles of water—but nothing to eat. Not that she was hungry anyway.

She walked past the bedroom without even looking in. The sheets were untouched. Perfectly made. She didn’t bother crawling in.

It felt wrong.

So she dropped onto the couch instead.

And stayed there.

Back at the townhouse, Caitlyn woke up with Vi gone.

She didn’t move right away. Just stayed in bed, eyes fixed on the empty space beside her where Vi used to lay. Her hand reached across the sheets, fingers slowly splaying over the cool fabric that no longer held any warmth.

She didn’t say anything. Didn’t even sigh.

Just lay there, staring.

Then she reached for Vi’s pillow—fingers curling around the edge, pulling it toward her. She pressed it close, the fabric soft against her cheek as she inhaled deeply.

The scent hit her immediately—familiar but never memorized. Something that was always there, something she'd always ignored, never thought to learn until it was already fading.

She kept the lights low. The curtains drawn. Shadows dulled the edges of the room.

Vi’s things—the ones she hadn’t taken—stayed exactly where they were.

Caitlyn didn’t move them. Didn’t fold them away into drawers or closets.

They remained. As if Vi had just stepped out for a day or two. As if this wasn’t the end.

Downstairs, in the living room, the wedding photo still sat on the floor.

The broken frame was gone—tossed in the bin—but the picture itself leaned against the wall, slightly bent at the corner, gathering dust.

Caitlyn didn’t move it. Didn’t clean it. Just passed it every day.

She didn’t tell anyone she was alone now.

Not her parents. Not Powder.

Not a single soul.

The rings were gone from the table near the door.

She’d moved them herself.

Now they sat in the drawer beside her bed. All three of them.

And she hadn’t opened that drawer since.

Still remember a time when you felt like home
You and me up against the great unknown
You were my life, now you’re out of my life
Yeah I guess that’s life

As promised, Caitlyn signed the divorce papers.

She told Mel to take care of the rest—voice flat, eyes fixed on the corner of the room, like even looking at the document for too long might undo her.

“I don’t want updates,” she said, her fingers curling slightly after she handed the folder over. “I don’t want to know anything else.”

Mel nodded. Didn’t press.

Caitlyn kept her expression blank until the office door shut. Then her shoulders dropped.

She wanted to forget.

But she couldn’t.

Five years of living with someone in silence and indifference still felt better than the silence she now came home to. This kind was heavier. Harsher. It scraped at the edges of her thoughts, followed her into every room like a ghost she couldn’t name.

But then again… there was no one else to blame.

Her jaw tightened.

She was the one who was silent.

She was the one who was indifferent.

After the first week of Vi leaving, Caitlyn started jogging.

Her body still woke at the same time every morning—early, precise, automatic. It had gotten used to rising early just to have breakfast with Vi. That quiet ritual had settled into her bones.

But now that Vi was gone, sleep didn’t come easy. Not when it should. Not when she needed it.

So she ran instead.

No route planned. No goal set.

Just early mornings.

Long stretches of empty streets.

The same song in her ears—“The Things I Didn’t Say.”

Over and over again.

She didn’t stretch. Didn’t pace herself.

She just ran.

Vi received the divorce papers from her lawyer, Jayce.

She stared at them, pen in hand. Her fingers gripped it tight—too tight. Her knuckles whitened.

She wanted to sign. To just get it over with. Move on.

But her hand wouldn’t move.

Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, her jaw clenched until her teeth ached. She exhaled sharply and tossed the pen down, the click loud in the quiet.

It frustrated her. Infuriated her.

Knowing she had to let go. That she needed to.

But her body wouldn’t let her.

So instead of signing, she went to the gym.

Burned herself out. Every single day.

She trained harder. Longer.

Her fists hit the punching bag like they were trying to split it in half. Over and over. Arms trembling by the end of each round.

She wrapped her knuckles tighter every morning, even when the skin was raw, when yesterday’s bruises hadn’t faded yet.

She didn’t ice them.

Didn’t care.

Powder called. The phone buzzed on the counter. Again. And again.

Vi didn’t answer. She never does.

There was nothing Powder could say to fix the tightness in her chest, the twisting knot that never really loosened, not even when she was too exhausted to move.

She drove past the townhouse on her way to work.

And again on the way back.

She didn’t stop. Never did.

Just looked at the lights through the window. Slowed down a little.

Then kept driving.

At night, she sat on the couch—the same one she now slept on—and stared at her phone.

She typed out a message.

“Hey. Just checking in.”

Then deleted it.

She tried again.

“Can we talk?”

Deleted.

“I miss you.”

Deleted.

The screen dimmed. She didn’t turn it back on.

When Powder called again, the phone buzzed against the tile where she had dropped it. She let it ring.

Then sighed. Shoulders heavy.

She stood up, picked up the pen again, and walked slowly to the dining table.

The divorce papers were still there. Waiting.

She sat down.

And this time… she signed them.

Can you hear me?
I’m trying to hear you
Silence strikes like a hurricane
Now I’m singing for you
You’re screaming at me
It’s hard to see your tears in the pouring rain

There were no announcements. No public statements.

Not from Caitlyn.

Not from Vi.

Vi didn’t even tell her dad that she and Caitlyn had divorced. The thought sat heavy in her chest, like a conversation she knew she’d avoid for as long as she could.

And from the lack of a phone call from Tobias or Cassandra Kiramman, Vi figured Caitlyn hadn’t told them either.

She was doing her best not to think about Caitlyn. Really, she was. But something always pulled her back.

Sometimes it was the news. Sometimes it was a voice in a crowd that sounded like hers. Sometimes it was just a phrase—a turn of speech Caitlyn used to say.

But today, it was her phone.

The screen lit up with a soft buzz, and there it was—her calendar notification.

"Baby making with wifey."

Vi stared at it. Blank-faced. Lips slightly parted.

She hadn’t deleted the calendar entry. Had forgotten it was even there.

Her thumb hovered over the screen.

Then she swiped it away, jaw tightening.

Later that evening, she drove by the townhouse again.

Only this time… she stopped.

The car idled across the street. Her headlights dimmed. Hands still on the wheel.

Part of her—some desperate, aching part—hoped Caitlyn might call. Or text. Something. Anything.

Ask her to come over. Ask her to stay.

Vi wouldn’t have cared if it was just like before—transactional, quiet, impersonal.

She would’ve said yes. Would’ve held Caitlyn again, even if only for a moment.

Even if it wasn’t real.

But her phone stayed silent.

No call. No message.

She looked up at the house. The one they’d shared.

Only one light was on. Just the one by the front door.

Everything else was dark. Still.

Like no one lived there anymore.

Like it had been emptied out, little by little, without a single box leaving the porch.

Vi’s throat tightened.

Her foot hovered above the gas pedal, but she didn’t press down.

She just sat there.

And then her eyes dropped to her hands.

She noticed the faint line on her finger, where her wedding ring had been. The skin was almost even now, the indentation slowly fading.

She stared at it.

Longer than she meant to.

Her fingers twitched—instinctive, like they expected something to still be there.

But the space stayed empty.

Take it
No reason for me to hold on
(Look in my eyes I’m letting go)
Keep it
Don’t need it, don’t need it, don’t need it!
Take what you want, take what you want and go

It’s been a month since Vi left.

And for the first time, Caitlyn opened the bedside drawer where she placed their rings.

Her fingers hesitated just above the handle for a moment before she pulled it open.

She hasn’t seen them since the night Vi walked out.

Her engagement ring. Her wedding band. Vi’s ring too, tucked beside them, nestled in a corner like it didn’t want to be seen.

They were all still there.

The only reminder she had left of a marriage she took for granted.

She never touches them.

She just looks.

Her eyes lingered on the sapphire in the center of her ring—the one Vi had picked for her. The one she didn’t think she cared about. Now, she couldn’t look at it for too long without her chest tightening.

When her heat came, it was torture.

It hit harder than usual—sharp, consuming—and she fought the urge to grab her phone and call Vi.

Just to hear her voice. Just to say something.

But it wasn’t her place anymore.

Vi wasn’t hers anymore.

So she took suppressants. Without thinking. Without breathing.

And she tried—desperately—to not think of Vi.

Of the last two weeks.

Of how they made love like it meant something. Like they were just discovering each other. Like they had time.

She shoved those memories down—stuffed them into the same drawer as the rings—and waited for the days to pass.

When her heat finally passed, she had the house cleaned.

Put everything in order.

Vi’s scent was barely there now, almost erased. But sometimes, when Caitlyn couldn’t help herself, she’d slip into Vi’s office and just stand there.

Breathe in.

The scent was faint, but still there. Still Vi.

It was the only room she stopped letting the cleaners touch. Not anymore.

She tried not to think about it. She wasn’t supposed to. Not now.

She kept telling herself it was okay. That she didn’t love Vi. That the marriage didn’t mean anything.

That the divorce was a good thing. That it ended the trap they’d both walked into with open eyes.

But where she wanted to feel relief… all she felt was regret.

She went to work. Wore her smile like armor. Laughed when the situation demanded it.

But every night, when she came home, she took a minute—just a minute—to stop by the dining table.

To stare at the empty surface. No food waiting. No second plate.

Then her eyes always found the wedding photo.

Still there. Still on the floor. The glass and frame long gone. What was left was just the photo, bare, raw and gathering dust.

She’d tell herself she had to put it away.

Every time.

But she never did.

As she was staring at the photo, her phone rang.

She flinched, startled by the sound breaking through the silence, and for a second—just one second—her heart jumped.

Vi?

She snatched the phone a little too fast and glanced at the screen.

Her stomach sank.

It wasn’t Vi.

Cassandra Kiramman.

Her mother’s name lit up the display, and Caitlyn just stared at it for a moment before answering on the fourth ring, voice flat but polite.

“Hello, Mother.”

“Caitlyn,” Cassandra’s voice was clipped and brisk, as always. “Just reminding you about the Gala next Friday. You and Vi are expected to attend. Your father already RSVPed for the family.”

Caitlyn blinked slowly, her grip tightening around the phone.

She opened her mouth to respond, to finally say it. We’re not married anymore. It sat right there, on the edge of her tongue.

But nothing came out.

The words stuck, caught in her throat like something sharp. Saying it out loud would make it real.

And she wasn’t ready for that.

Not yet.

She swallowed hard. Then nodded to herself and said softly into the phone, “Right. I remember. I’ll be there.”

There was a pause on the other end.

“And Vi?” Cassandra asked.

Caitlyn exhaled slowly through her nose, biting down the sigh that threatened to slip out.

“I’ll have to check her schedule,” she replied evenly. “Just to be sure.”

“Do that,” her mother said.

“I will,” Caitlyn answered, and without waiting for more, she added, “I’ll call you back once I’ve confirmed.”

She ended the call and let the phone drop onto the table beside the photo, her shoulders sinking.

Her gaze fell back to the wedding photo on the floor.

Her mouth twitched, eyes narrowing, voice barely a whisper.

“It’s over,” she told herself.

Not a question. Not a wish.

Just fact.

She wasn’t married anymore.

They just had to tell their parents.

And be done with it.

Chapter Text

Vi came back to her condo, tired as usual after another long session at the gym.

Her arms were still trembling as she unlocked the door, jaw tight, forehead damp with sweat. She kicked her shoes off lazily, let them land wherever they landed, then made her way to the kitchen.

She opened the fridge, squinting into the light.

Empty. Again.

"Fuck," she muttered under her breath.

She’d forgotten to buy food. Again.

With a sigh, she grabbed a bottle of water and the half-eaten pack of crackers from the counter—last night’s dinner, recycled.

She sat at the dining table, hunched forward, hair still damp from the shower she hadn’t taken yet, biting off a corner of a cracker that tasted like cardboard.

Her phone buzzed.

She ignored it, chewing slower.

Probably Powder again.

She hadn’t talked to her since the last fight. The one right after Caitlyn left.

And honestly? She wasn’t ready to talk yet. If Powder could hold a grudge, so could Vi.

But the buzzing didn’t stop.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Vi let out a groan and stood up, stomping over to where her phone was charging on the counter. "Alright, already," she muttered.

She picked it up.

And almost choked on the cracker still in her mouth.

“Pops.”

Shit.

Her thumb hovered over the answer button, frozen.

If he was calling, this wasn’t good.

Vander never called—not unless something was actually wrong. Not unless it was serious.

He didn’t meddle anymore, hadn’t in years.

Ever since she and Powder were old enough to make their own decisions, Vander took a step back. Gave them space. Trusted them to live with their choices.

These days, he was busy with ambassador stuff anyway. Travelling around Runeterra, shaking hands, pretending Zaun wasn’t constantly on fire.

So why the hell was he calling now?

Her chest tightened.

She wiped her palm on her shorts, then finally tapped the screen.

"Hey, Pops," she said, forcing a casual tone she definitely wasn’t feeling. "Everything okay?"

“What? I can’t call my kids unless something isn’t okay?” came Vander’s gruff voice on the other end, and Vi instantly winced, the sound loud in her ear.

She groaned, shifting the phone to her other hand. “Of course not. You can always call. Anytime.”

There was a grunt—classic Vander—and then his tone shifted, lighter, warmer.

“I’m back in Zaun,” he said. “At the ranch right now. Thought I’d check on the horses.”

Vi smiled, the kind of smile that hurt a little because she hadn’t done it in a while. She leaned against the counter, letting her eyes drift to the dark window.

“That’s great,” she said. “How long you planning to play ranch man before heading off to another one of your diplomatic missions?”

There was a pause on the other end. Just long enough for Vi to feel it.

Then Vander said slowly, “I’ve been thinking of retiring.”

Vi blinked.

“Getting old,” he added. “Getting tired of all this travelling.”

His voice softened in that rare way that always knocked Vi a little sideways.

“All I want now is to lean back in my porch chair here at the ranch, watching the sunset, with a cup of something warm and maybe play with my grandkids, too. The ones I don't currently have.”

Vi nearly choked again—this time on air.

Her lips parted, but nothing came out.

Before she could recover, he was already pushing forward.

“So,” Vander said, casual in the way that never meant casual, “how’ve you been? What’ve you been up to while I’ve been gone?”

Vi exhaled hard through her nose and scrubbed a hand down her face. From the way he asked, light and easy, she knew—he didn’t know.

He hadn’t heard the rumors. Or he was pretending not to.

Either way, he was blissfully unaware of the disaster she was currently living.

“Fine,” she said, trying to keep her voice level. “Nothing new. Just busy with work, designing new warfare weaponry. Gym. That’s about it.”

“Mmm,” Vander hummed. “What about Caitlyn?”

Vi flinched, just barely.

Her fingers clenched around the edge of the table. She forced herself not to sigh.

“She’s… fine,” Vi said after a beat. “Busy. Same as me.”

A pause.

“You two too busy to work on giving your parents a grandchild too?” Vander said, half-joking, half-serious. “It’s been five years, Violet.”

Vi groaned audibly this time, pressing the heel of her palm to her forehead. “Pops, we talked about this. We decided to wait until we were ready, remember?”

“Yeah, and that was years ago, Five, to be exact.” he shot back. “You still not ready? ‘Cause your parents been ready to be grandparents since the day you said ‘I do.’ And now we’re gettin’ agitated.”

Then he dropped his voice into a mock-whisper, all dramatic and conspiratorial.

“Is it medical? One of you havin’ problems? You can tell me.”

Vi let her head thunk back against the cabinet.

Another groan.

“Pops…”

“And I’m not the only one getting old here,” Vander added, voice rising again. “Your Uncle Toby and Aunt Cassie—getting old too. And so are you! When do you two plan on having those babies, huh? When Caitlyn’s older and it’s harder to get pregnant? And then, what—finally have one and you’re both too old to have another?”

Vi dragged a hand down her face, slumping against the counter.

Vander wasn’t done.

“Would you even be alive long enough to have this same conversation with your kid if you don’t have one now?”

“Pops…” Vi groaned, squeezing her eyes shut, “we’re working on it.”

There was a sigh on the other end. A shift in tone. Softer now.

“I don’t mean to pressure you, Vi,” Vander said, and he sounded like he meant it. “Not me, not Tobias, not even Cassandra—we’d never do that. But… we’re all getting old, kiddo. And maybe… maybe a baby wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Could be a way to bring everyone closer again.”

Vi let out another sigh, this one quieter.

She made her way to the couch, dropped into it like the conversation had knocked the wind out of her.

“I get it, Pops,” she said, her voice tired but not angry. “I do.”

She stared at the ceiling for a second, then added, “We’re really working on it. Cait and I… we talked about trying this year.”

The second the words left her mouth, she felt the sting of regret.

It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly.

They had talked about it.

They had planned it.

But that was before the divorce.

The divorce that Vander didn’t know about. That Tobias and Cassandra didn’t know about either.

Vi closed her eyes.

She didn’t know which was worse—lying about the baby, or lying by omission about everything else.

Then Vander’s tone shifted—lighter, livelier, like hearing that Vi and Caitlyn were trying for a baby pulled him right out of whatever stump he’d been in.

“Well, that’s great!” he said, and Vi could practically see the grin on his face. “Now that’s some damn good news.”

He didn’t stop there.

“I bet it’s gonna be a girl. Has to be,” he went on, clearly enjoying himself now. “The Kirammans, they’ve got that streak—daughters, all of them. And hey, I’ve got two girls too, right? You and Powder. So chances are, we’re getting another little lady.”

Vi chuckled softly, voice catching on the way out. “Don’t jinx it, Pops.”

Vander laughed, deep and warm. “Maybe I should start building the crib already, huh? Get a head start.”

Vi’s smile faltered.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the phone.

She could hear how excited he was. Genuinely excited. Probably picturing a baby wrapped in soft blankets, bouncing on his knee, being spoiled rotten.

A grandchild Vi couldn’t give him.

Not anymore.

Not without a wife.

She cleared her throat and said quietly, “Don’t get too excited, Pops. We’re not even pregnant yet.”

Then, needing to steer things away, she asked, “So when are we meeting up anyway?”

Vander didn’t miss a beat. “Probably next Friday. That dumb Gala the Adventurer’s Guild is throwing.”

Vi blinked. “What gala?”

But before she could ask more, Vander was already wrapping up.

“Anyway, I gotta run—horses aren’t gonna feed themselves. I’ll call Powder next,” he said with a chuckle. “See you and Caitlyn at the gala, yeah?”

The line went dead.

She leaned her head back with a long, slow groan.

That was the first time she’d heard of any damn gala, and if Vander expected to see both her and Caitlyn there…

She closed her eyes for a second, then opened them and unlocked her phone.

She hovered over Caitlyn’s contact.

Should she text her? Ask about the gala?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to type.

But instead, her eyes landed on their last conversation.

And just like that… she stopped.

She didn’t type anything.

She just scrolled.

Reading.

Re-reading.

Each message hitting differently now.

Vi: Baby?
Caitlyn: Hm?
Vi: Do you know the password to our online bank accounts?
Caitlyn: Of course I do.
Vi: Well?
Caitlyn: Well, what?
Vi: What’s the password??
Caitlyn: Why don’t you know when you’re the one doing audits of our finances and doing the budgeting?
Vi: Well, your honor, in my defense, my phone just opens up the app using my gorgeous face.
Caitlyn: Okay, so if it opens, why do you need the password?
Vi: Cait… Can I just please have the password?
Caitlyn: I’ll tell you when you get home. Don’t you know that sending passwords over text messages or online messaging apps isn’t a good idea?
Vi: But I need it now…
Caitlyn: How badly do you need it?
Vi: Just as badly as I need to kiss you right now.
Caitlyn: 🙄
Vi: I need it badly, I need to print out our statements to file them.
Caitlyn: It’s our last name, no hyphen, first letters are capital, followed by our wedding anniversary.
Vi: You couldn’t just write it out?
Caitlyn: What did I just say about sending passwords over text messages or online messaging apps?
Vi: Not a good idea.
Caitlyn: 👍

Caitlyn: Violet.
Vi: Ugh, did I do something bad for you to call me by my full, government name? Couldn’t you just call me, I dunno, babe or something.
Caitlyn: Calling someone by their name is the sweetest endearment. Besides, Violet sounds nicer than “Baby” does.
Vi: So, you don’t like it when I call you “Baby”?
Caitlyn: Depends on the context.
Vi: I would like to know in what context do you like it when I call you “Baby”.
Caitlyn: When we’re making one.
Caitlyn: Anyway, I’ll be home late.
Caitlyn: Have dinner without me.
Vi: No, I’ll wait for you.
Caitlyn: I don’t know what time I’m coming home.
Vi: I’ll pick you up then. Tell Sevika she can go home.
Caitlyn: Fine.
Caitlyn: Can you please bring food again? I haven’t eaten lunch yet.
Vi: Only if you ask nicely.
Caitlyn: Did you not read the part where I said, “please”?
Vi: Call me babe and I’ll bring food.
Caitlyn: Nevermind, let me die of starvation.
Vi: 😤😤😤
Caitlyn: Fine. Babe. Please. Bring. Food. Happy?
Vi: Yes, my love.
Caitlyn: Ugh
Vi: What? You don’t like it? You like “Baby” more?

Vi: Calling the attention of my beautiful wife.
Caitlyn: Hm?
Vi: Ionia or Noxus?
Caitlyn: Why?
Vi: Can you just please pick one?
Caitlyn: Well it depends on what I am picking them for. I need context because both places have different core strengths and weaknesses and I might make the wrong choice if I don’t know why I’m being asked to choose one over the other.
Vi: 🙄 Vacation destinations.
Caitlyn: Neither then.
Vi: Huh? Why not? I thought you’d at least choose Ionia or something.
Caitlyn: Well, you thought wrong.
Vi: Okay then, if we were going on vacation, where do you want to go?
Caitlyn: It’s not exactly where I want to go but how. The destination is secondary.
Vi: What do you mean?
Caitlyn: Well, I was thinking of taking a long vacation on board an Air Cruise. Docking at different countries and regions all over Runeterra.
Vi: Air cruises are… long though. One roundtrip cruise takes about 45 days.
Caitlyn: And? What’s wrong with that?
Vi: Well nothing… But what about our jobs?
Caitlyn: Violet, a vacation is what we do when we want to escape our jobs.

Vi: Hey.
Caitlyn: Hm?
Vi: I want kisses.
Caitlyn: How exactly do you expect me to kiss you when you’re in Zaun, working and I’m here in Piltover, getting ready for a council debate?
Vi: 😘
Caitlyn: 🙄
Vi: I want kisses, please.
Caitlyn: 😘
Vi: Kisses. Plural.
Caitlyn: 😘😘
Vi: Ugh.
Caitlyn: The correct response is, “Thank you”.
Vi: One more.
Caitlyn: 😘
Vi: I miss you.
Caitlyn: We just saw each other this morning and I need to get back to work.
Vi: 🙄🥲

Then—buzz.

A new message popped up on her screen.

Caitlyn: Hey…

Vi froze.

She stared at the message.

Wondered if she was dreaming or did her ex-wife really just sent her a message?

Caitlyn started biting her nail, her teeth catching the edge of it over and over as she sat there waiting for Vi to reply.

She’d spent the last twenty minutes talking herself in and out of sending a message—typing it, deleting it, retyping it again. Calling had crossed her mind, briefly, but she knew that would’ve just made everything worse. Hearing Vi’s voice would’ve rattled her.

Texting was safer.

But now that she’d done it, now that the message was out there… it felt worse.

She set the phone down beside her on the bed, stood up, and began pacing. Five steps forward, five steps back. Over and over.

Still no reply.

“What’s taking her so long…” she muttered under her breath, glancing at the screen again. Still blank.

Caitlyn sat back down, picked up the phone, stared at the screen like she could will it to light up. She sighed, setting it back down again.

Right. She wasn’t exactly in a position to demand fast responses.

They weren’t married anymore.

Vi could be busy. With anything. With anyone.

Caitlyn scoffed quietly, lips tightening. The sound came out too bitter, even for her own ears.

She blinked, surprised at herself. Why did it sound like that? Why did it feel like that?

She wasn’t supposed to care.

She didn’t love Vi that way. That’s what she always said.

Didn’t she?

Before she could spiral further, her phone buzzed.

Her eyes snapped to it.

Vi: Hey…

Caitlyn groaned softly.

What was she supposed to say to that?

She took a deep breath, sat up straighter, and decided to just get it over with. She had to tell Vi about the Gala—that’s why she messaged in the first place.

But just as she opened her keyboard, another buzz.

Vi: How have you been? Are you eating well? Do you eat breakfast before you leave or at least eat dinner when you get home?

Caitlyn froze.

She stared at the message for a few seconds, her grip on the phone tightening just slightly.

And she didn’t know why her throat suddenly tightened.

She wanted to tell Vi the truth.

That she wasn’t eating well—not because she was trying to starve herself or anything dramatic like that. She just… forgot sometimes.

She ate when the hunger got loud enough. Slept when her body gave out. Woke up early to jog, because her body still remembered Vi, remembered the routine they used to share.

Lunch happened if she remembered. If work didn’t swallow her whole first.

And dinner? Dinner depended on whether Sevika reminded her. Some nights she managed to grab takeout on the way home. Some nights, she stood in front of the fridge and grabbed the first thing she saw. But even that was getting harder—the fridge was emptier every week.

She kept telling herself to do the groceries.

She never did.

Her fingers hovered over the screen before she finally replied:

Caitlyn: Yeah… I’m okay. I’ve been eating well. You? Did you have dinner already?

A few seconds passed. Then:

Vi: Same. And yeah… I just had dinner.
Caitlyn: What did you have?
Vi: Uhm… Something healthy. A salad and some chicken breast.
Caitlyn: That’s good.

A beat.

Vi: What about you? What did you have?

Caitlyn sighed softly, her shoulders sinking just a little.

She hadn’t eaten. Not yet. She didn’t even feel hungry, really.

But she couldn’t tell Vi that. Not now.

Vi didn’t need to worry about her. She shouldn’t.

Not anymore.

Caitlyn: Uhm, I ordered something earlier. Some fish fillet and had some green vegetables with it.
Vi: Hmm… Okay, that’s good.

Caitlyn stared at the screen, thumb brushing over the edge of her phone.

She reminded herself—Tell her about the gala. That’s why you texted her in the first place.

But her fingers stayed still.

Because if she said that—if she gave Vi the reason—it would end the conversation.

And right now? She wasn’t ready for it to end.

Not yet.

She just wanted to talk to Vi a bit more.

Vi stared at the messages, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

She was trying to think of something. Anything. A line that might make Caitlyn laugh. A story. A memory. Even a dumb joke. Anything that could stretch the conversation just a little longer.

Because she knew the second she asked about the gala, Caitlyn would tell her what this was really about—and that would be the end of it.

And Vi… she wasn’t ready for the end. Not yet.

But before she could send anything, her phone buzzed again.

Caitlyn: Hey uhm…

Vi sat up straighter.

Vi: Yes?

A minute passed. She saw the typing bubble flash, disappear, come back again.

Then finally—

Caitlyn: I lied earlier.
Caitlyn: I haven’t actually eaten yet. I’m sorry.

Vi’s brow furrowed, her fingers tightening around the phone.

Vi: Why would you lie about that? And why haven’t you eaten yet?

No reply for a moment. Then:

Caitlyn: I forgot to get some takeout and the fridge ran out of food. I haven’t done the groceries yet.
Vi: Huh? When was the last time you bought groceries?
Caitlyn: I don’t know. I forgot.
Vi: What do you mean you forgot. Did you do ANY grocery shopping at all since uh… since I left?

A pause.

Caitlyn: No. Not really.
Vi: What have you been eating then?
Caitlyn: Whatever’s in the fridge and then I buy take out sometimes.

Vi frowned. She could feel her jaw clench.

Her thumbs moved too fast.

Vi: Baby…

The second it sent—shit.

Her eyes widened, thumb stabbing at the screen to try and unsend it, but it was too late.

The message had gone through.

And right below it—those cursed gray words: Seen

Vi froze.

She stared at the screen like it might erase itself if she glared hard enough.

Well. That’s it. She officially looked like the ex-wife who couldn’t move on.

Perfect.

Caitlyn couldn’t stop the smile on her face when Vi’s last text came through.

Baby.

She bit her bottom lip, laughing softly into her hand. That stupid endearment Vi always threw around like it meant nothing—like it was air, casual, automatic—had annoyed her more often than not. But now?

Now it made her chest ache in a way she couldn’t explain, and smile like a fool at her phone screen.

Of course, Vi probably didn’t mean it. It was a slip. Muscle memory. That’s all.

Caitlyn sighed, pulled her legs up onto the bed, and decided it was better to just say what she meant to say from the start. Before she lost her nerve.

Caitlyn: So uhm, I actually texted because we’re invited to a Gala next Friday. It’s supposed to be a celebration for a successful expedition by the Adventurer’s Guild. I heard they uncovered some treasure. The motif is black and blue. The Gala starts at 8:00PM so, let me know if you want to go together or we’ll just meet up at the Gala and walk in together.

She hit send, then let the phone fall beside her as she flopped back onto the bed.

She wasn’t expecting much. Maybe a short “noted” or “okay.” Something quick. Detached.

So when her phone buzzed again, she picked it up lazily, one hand already braced for something impersonal.

But instead—

Vi: Okay, sure. Gala, next Friday, Black and Blue, 8PM.
Vi: Uhm… by the way, I lied earlier too.
Vi: I actually didn’t eat anything healthy. Just water and crackers.
Vi: So uhmm.. If you’re hungry, maybe we can have a late dinner together and then we could do a little bit of grocery shopping at that overpriced convenience store that’s open 24/7 near the plaza.
Vi: I mean, only if you want to.

Caitlyn stared at the screen.

Then she smiled.

Soft. A little stunned. A blush crawling up the sides of her neck before she could even stop it.

She looked like someone who’d just been asked out by their crush.

Which… she guessed wasn’t entirely untrue.

Her thumb hovered over the keyboard.

And for the first time in weeks, her heart actually felt—lighter.

Vi was biting the nail on her thumb, teeth gnawing at the skin like it owed her something, while her knee bounced nonstop against the floor. Her leg hadn’t stopped moving in five minutes. Maybe longer. She didn’t check. She was too focused on the tiny, silent message screen in front of her. No reply yet.

Caitlyn could either say yes or no—hell, she could even just hit her with a thumbs-up emoji—but say something, please. The longer the silence stretched, the tighter Vi’s chest got. Her breathing started to hitch a little. Mild panic. Not the full-blown kind, just that slow build of you shouldn’t have said anything, you absolute dumbass kind of anxiety.

She groaned, dropped her head back against the couch cushion, and threw her phone beside her with a soft thud.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” she muttered.

The moment the phone hit the cushion, it buzzed. Once.

Vi didn’t even breathe. She dove across the couch so fast she nearly rolled over the armrest. She grabbed the phone like it was slipping through her fingers and blinked down at the screen.

Caitlyn: Sure. Pick me up?

Vi’s heart stopped for half a second. Then kicked back in with enough force to punch a grin onto her face so wide, it was embarrassing. She bit her lip, trying to stifle it, failing.

She tapped out a reply quickly, her fingers stumbling over the keys.

Vi: Okay! I’ll be there in 10 minutes tops. I promise.

She hit send, then tossed the phone back down and bolted toward the bathroom.

“Okay, okay, quick shower, clean clothes—don’t smell like a locker room,” she muttered to herself, ripping her shirt off on the way.

On the couch, her phone buzzed again.

Caitlyn: I’ll be waiting…

Chapter Text

Vi’s shower was rushed.

"Okay, okay—just quick, no need to overdo it," she muttered as she twisted the knob. Water on. Shampoo. Body scrub. Rinse. Five minutes flat. Maybe less.

She rushed into the bedroom, yanked open the drawer by the closet, grabbed the first shirt she could find—a plain navy tee—then pulled on underwear, a sports bra, joggers, socks. No time for matching. No time to care.

Keys. Wallet. Shoes. Out the door.

She was excited—yeah, she could admit that—but she kept telling herself this wasn’t what it looked like. She wasn’t getting her hopes up. She was just helping Caitlyn get something to eat and do the groceries. That was all this was. Nothing more. Nothing less.

In the basement garage, the soles of her boots echoed off the concrete as she made her way to her car. She climbed in, slammed the door shut, and sat there for a second, staring at herself in the rearview mirror.

“You’re just helping Caitlyn,” she said under her breath, pointing at her reflection. “She hasn’t eaten. She doesn’t have food. You’re just being nice.”

Her grip tightened on the steering wheel.

“She’s not your wife anymore,” she added, quieter this time.

Another beat.

“You’ve moved on.”

She started the car.

Drove out of the garage.

And all the way to the townhouse, she kept muttering to herself between every stoplight.

“This is just groceries. Totally normal. Totally fine.”

When Vi got to the townhouse, it wasn’t ten minutes like she promised.

It was closer to twenty-five.

She checked her phone before getting out. No messages from Caitlyn.

She let out a short groan and rubbed her face. “Nice one, Vi,” she muttered.

She was the one who’d said ten minutes. “Tops,” she even added. Like an idiot.

She walked up to the front door, pulling her key out of her pocket without thinking. It was still on the ring. Same spot it had always been. Her hand hovered just in front of the lock.

Oh.

She still had her key.

Her hand froze halfway to the keyhole. She blinked at the door for a second longer than necessary, just… standing there.

Oh.

Then it hit—hard and fast.

Right.

This isn’t her house anymore. She didn’t live here anymore.

She swallowed, slowly lowered the key, and slid it back into her pocket. Then she exhaled, loud and short, and reached for the doorbell instead.

She pressed it once. Waited.

Nothing.

Brows pulling together, she pressed it again—twice, this time.

Still nothing.

Her brows drew together. She knew Caitlyn was home. They’d just been texting. Vi could hear the bell echoing inside, so she knew it was working.

She was just about to press it a third time when the door finally opened—and Vi blinked.

Caitlyn stood there in—Vi tilted her head slightly—normal clothes?

T-shirt. Jeans. White sneakers. Hair pulled back into a high ponytail.

Vi stared for a second longer than she meant to.

Caitlyn never dressed like this. Not back when they were living together. Even in the house she always wore something formal, or… elegant. Not this.

Not casual.

She looked—Vi’s eyes ran over her again. Shirt tucked just barely into the waistband. Hair messily pulled back. Like she didn’t try too hard.

The same way she looked when they were still in university. Simple. Effortless.

Familiar.

Caitlyn noticed the way Vi’s eyes moved over her—quick, but obvious. She didn’t say anything, didn’t react. Mostly because she was doing the exact same thing.

Vi looked… different.

Thinner, maybe. Her waist looked tighter. But her arms—her shoulders, her chest—those were more defined. The muscle stood out more clearly than Caitlyn remembered.

Caitlyn made a quiet hum without meaning to—barely audible.

Vi caught it anyway.

“What?” Vi asked, head tilting slightly. “Something wrong?”

Caitlyn gave a small shake of her head. “Nothing,” she said. “You’ve been working out.”

Vi raised an eyebrow. “How can you tell?”

Caitlyn shrugged once. “I’ve seen you naked more times than I can count,” she said plainly. “I can tell when something changes.”

Vi’s lips curled into a smile. A real one. “Okay, fair.”

Caitlyn gestured lightly toward the shirt Vi was wearing. “Also, I bought that shirt. It used to be tighter around your torso. Now it’s looser there, but the sleeves are tighter.”

Vi glanced down, tugged lightly at the fabric around her arm, then let out a low laugh. “Huh. You’re right.”

She looked back up. “Funny you notice these things.”

“I notice a lot of things,” Caitlyn replied, her tone even. “I just don’t comment on them all the time.”

Vi raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

Caitlyn met her eyes. “If anything, you’re the one who doesn’t notice things.”

Vi narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean I don’t notice things?”

Caitlyn shifted her weight, leaned against the doorframe, and crossed her arms. She looked right at Vi. “Did you ever notice that every year you have new boxers?”

Vi blinked. Her nose scrunched slightly. “No? I’ve been using the same boxers since we got married.”

Caitlyn let out a quiet laugh. “No, you haven’t.”

Vi raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I think I’d know if I had new ones.”

Caitlyn tilted her head, amused. “Every year, I throw out the old ones and replace them. You’ve never noticed.”

Vi frowned. “I would’ve felt it. New ones are stiff.”

“Not if I washed them twice first before you ever saw them,” Caitlyn said, her tone dry but clearly enjoying herself.

Vi stared at her for a second, then let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “Seriously? You buy me new boxers every year?”

“Yes,” Caitlyn said, expression flat but voice softening. “Same time I buy myself new underwear.”

She gave a small shrug. “I couldn’t possibly buy myself something new and not get you something too. That would’ve felt… wrong.”

Vi looked at Caitlyn, her eyes lingering a little longer than they should’ve.

Her mind started drifting—quiet at first, then picking up speed as pieces clicked into place.

Caitlyn was right.

Every time Caitlyn got something new—a dress, a necklace, even a pair of gloves—there was always something for Vi, too. If Caitlyn picked up a new work outfit, Vi would suddenly have a tailored jacket waiting in the closet. New heels? Vi got new boots. Some bracelet or earrings? Vi always ended up with something matching. Not flashy. Not always obvious. But there.

She blinked, eyes dropping to her shirt.

Come to think of it… most of the clothes she liked—the ones that actually fit right, the ones she wore the most—Caitlyn bought them.

Vi let out a quiet breath through her nose. “Huh.”

She hadn’t noticed. Not once. And now that she did, it felt almost embarrassing.

Maybe Caitlyn was right.

Maybe she really wasn’t great at noticing things.

“Are we going?” Caitlyn asked, pulling Vi out of her thoughts.

Vi blinked, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, we should.”

Caitlyn gave a short nod and stepped onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind her. She twisted the knob, making sure that the door was locked.

They walked to the car together. No rush. No words.

Vi stepped ahead and moved quickly toward the car. She pulled open the passenger side door and held it without saying anything.

Caitlyn glanced at her, just for a second. Then stepped in without a word.

Vi closed the door, circled around, and got in on her side. She started the engine.

They pulled away from the curb in silence.

Vi kept the speed low as they drove through Piltover. The streets here were mostly quiet this late—dim streetlamps, locked storefronts, the occasional glow from a café cleaning up for the night.

It wouldn’t be like that where they were going.

Zaun was different.

Down there, the city came alive after dark. Vi could already picture the neon signs flashing over the promenade. Karaoke joints with busted speakers. Video stores that should’ve gone out of business years ago but were still there, blinking under flickering lights. Pubs that smelled like smoke and oil. Street food stands, restaurants with no closing hours, and the more adult places tucked between neon signs and blacked-out windows.

Zaun didn’t slow down. Not even for sleep.

The buildings outside started to shift—Piltover’s clean stone and glass slowly giving way to exposed steel, layers of graffiti, and neon signs stacked too close together, all buzzing at different speeds.

Vi kept her eyes on the road. One hand on the wheel, the other hanging off the edge of the door, fingers tapping aimlessly. She wasn’t tense exactly, but she was thinking—trying to come up with something. Anything. Just to make the silence a little less weird.

“So…” she said, voice a little rough from not using it. “What’ve you been up to lately?”

Caitlyn leaned back into the headrest and tilted her head toward Vi. “Not much,” she said. “Just work and… work.”

Vi let out a short laugh through her nose. “Yeah, that sounds like you.”

She shifted slightly in her seat. “Just don’t work so much you forget to take care of yourself, okay?”

Caitlyn didn’t respond right away.

Then came the silence again.

It sat there. Tight. Vi immediately regretted saying anything. She glanced toward Caitlyn, about to take it back, or change the subject—something.

But then Caitlyn moved.

She shifted in her seat, turned a little, and lifted her arm. A second later, Vi felt her fingers brushing through her hair—soft, slow, casual like it wasn’t a big deal.

“Are you taking care of yourself?” Caitlyn asked softly.

Vi smiled—kind of. It wasn’t full, and it didn’t reach all the way, but it was there.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I am.”

They didn’t speak after that. But the silence didn’t hit the same way.

It wasn’t comfortable. But it didn’t hurt.

Caitlyn kept playing with her hair. Light touches. Absent-minded.

Vi kept driving.

She glanced over at Caitlyn again—and just like earlier, she realized something. Something she hadn’t noticed before.

Caitlyn was never the kind of person who did grand gestures.

She wasn’t like Vi.

Vi used to cook for her. Leave notes. Buy flowers for no reason. All the things people were supposed to do when they were in love. Big, obvious things. Vi did all of that.

Caitlyn didn’t.

She was quiet. Reserved. Hard to read sometimes. She did things in silence.

Maybe that’s why Vi hadn’t seen it. Even before they agreed to try again—Caitlyn had been doing something. Not loud, not romantic in the traditional way, but consistent. Thoughtful. Real.

It wasn’t just the clothes or the quiet gifts. Some people would say that was normal. But it wasn’t—not for them. Not when Caitlyn had said the marriage was just a formality. Just a contract.

Still… she bought Vi things. She never spent big money without checking first. Never once asked Vi what she was putting into their joint account—just added her own share every time. Quiet. Reliable.

Vi handled the groceries most of the time, just placed orders online. But Caitlyn was the one who put everything away. Checked the expiration dates. Cleaned the fridge without being asked.

She kept the house in order.

She was there.

Not in the way Vi wanted. Not in the way Vi expected. But she was present. She didn’t check out.

Vi sighed—louder than she meant to.

Janna, she felt stupid.

She’d been so caught up waiting for some big sign. Some speech or gesture or moment that would finally prove Caitlyn cared. And the whole time, Caitlyn had been… doing the work. Quietly. In the background. Without asking for anything.

Even if it wasn’t love, even if it wasn’t romance, it was still effort.

And Vi had never once acknowledged that.

She never said thank you.

Not once.

She never told Caitlyn she appreciated her.

Not for the clothes. Not for keeping the house in order. Not for showing up when she didn’t have to. Not for doing any of it in a marriage Caitlyn wasn’t even sure she wanted.

Caitlyn looked over at her, brow lifting. “What’s wrong?”

Vi shook her head quickly, eyes back on the road. “Nothing.”

She forced a smile. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Vi parked outside a small convenience store, tucked just far enough from the Promenade that the noise didn’t reach. It was quieter here—fewer people, barely any foot traffic—but the store was small. Caitlyn didn’t expect it to carry everything she’d need to get through the week.

Still, essentials were better than nothing.

She glanced at the store, then made a mental note to ask Vi later for the name of the grocery website she used to order from. She should probably start doing that herself now.

Caitlyn opened the door and stepped out without waiting for Vi.

The air smelled like engine fumes and warm pavement. She looked around. Neon signs blinked in the distance—loud colors, glowing blues and reds—but it felt far enough not to be overwhelming.

She hadn’t been to Zaun in a while.

Across the street, just visible through the space between two buildings, stood Vi’s office tower. Twenty-four floors. She remembered that clearly. Vi had acquired it two years into their marriage.

Come to think of it, that might’ve been the last time she was in Zaun—the day of the grand opening.

Vi’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Do you wanna eat first or grab groceries?”

Caitlyn looked toward the store again, then around them. “Let’s just eat here.”

Vi stared at her. “Here?”

Caitlyn nodded once.

A look of complete disbelief flickered across Vi’s face. “What are we supposed to eat at a convenience store?”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes. “Bread. Instant noodles. Juice. It’s a convenience store, Vi. There’s food.”

Vi’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s not healthy,” she whispered, like someone might hear.

Caitlyn laughed. “It’s just this once. We’re not going to live off it.”

Vi didn’t look convinced. But she followed her anyway.

Caitlyn hadn’t been inside a convenience store in years.

Not since university, when she and her friends would stumble into one after some party, still half-drunk, loud, and starving. Usually for instant noodles or chips or whatever microwavable thing they could find that didn’t require thinking.

She looked around. Not much had changed.

There were aisles packed with snacks and cup noodles, a counter with ready-to-eat meals and a row of cold drinks—iced coffee, slurpees, plastic-wrapped sandwiches. One aisle was crammed with quick-use essentials: soap, shampoo, razors, deodorant. Condoms too, stacked in obnoxiously bright boxes.

Vi wandered off ahead, looking around like she was trying to remember what planet they were on.

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “What, you’ve never been in a convenience store before?”

Vi turned and shot her a look. “Of course I have. I’m not some spoiled, sheltered princess who’s never set foot outside a mansion.”

Caitlyn swatted her arm. “Excuse me. I know my way around a convenience store, thank you very much,” she said, chin lifting slightly.

Vi laughed. “Didn’t say any names. Why so defensive?”

Caitlyn gave a small huff under her breath, turned around, and grabbed a basket off the stack by the entrance.

She started toward the essentials aisle first, scanning the shelves. Soap. Shampoo. Detergent. She paused in front of the shampoo and narrowed her eyes slightly—no, she had enough at home. Vi used to order those in bulk, and half of them were still lined up under the bathroom sink.

She didn’t need detergent either.

She reached for a bottle of glue without thinking, then stared at it in her hand.

Why would she need glue?

She rolled her eyes and put it back.

She glanced over to where Vi had stopped. Caitlyn froze for a second.

Vi was staring at the condoms.

Just standing there. Reading the boxes.

Caitlyn’s brow pinched slightly.

Was Vi seeing someone?

Before she could stop herself from thinking too far into it, Vi turned toward her, holding up two different boxes.

“Condoms have flavor now?” Vi asked, brows raised. “And these ones have dots on them. When did that start?”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes. “When was the last time you even used one?”

Vi blinked. “Uh—”

“Definitely not in the last five years,” Caitlyn added flatly. “We never used them.”

Vi winced, putting the boxes back quickly. “Right…” she said, scratching the back of her neck.

Caitlyn walked past Vi, not saying anything. Her jaw was set a little tighter than before. Maybe she was a little annoyed. Maybe more than a little.

She didn’t like how curious Vi got about those condoms. Like she was figuring out what to buy for someone else. Someone new.

And really, she shouldn’t care.

They were divorced. Vi had every right to see whoever she wanted. Just like Caitlyn could start dating again if she wanted to.

Still, the thought lingered, and it sat, bitterly, in her chest and she doesn’t even know why.

She let out a quiet sigh through her nose, hoping Vi didn’t hear it, and walked over to the fridge with the drinks.

Inside, behind the fogged-up glass, she spotted a juice she hadn’t seen in years—the same one Uncle Vander used to let them drink when they visited the ranch. She grabbed two bottles and dropped them into the basket.

She turned toward the snack aisle next, scanning the shelves.

Midway down, she spotted a bright yellow bag—an old favorite she used to munch on as a kid. She hadn’t thought about it in years. She took two bags, tossed them into the basket, and kept moving.

She felt Vi come up behind her.

A second later, something dropped into the basket.

Caitlyn glanced down. Crackers.

She looked at Vi with a raised brow.

Vi shrugged. “I like crackers.”

Caitlyn gave a small shake of her head, but didn’t say anything.

She looked around once more, eyes moving slowly over the shelves. Nothing else really caught her attention.

She shifted the basket to her other hand. “Let’s just get something to eat.”

They walked toward the ready-to-eat counter, and Caitlyn noticed the way Vi eyed the food—suspicious, cautious, like every item on display had personally offended her.

Caitlyn almost laughed, but held it in.

Instead, she handed Vi the basket. “Hold this.”

Vi took it without looking away from the food.

She grabbed a tray, slid it in front of Vi, and turned toward the noodles section. Two large bowls—one spicy, one regular. She stacked them side by side.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Vi setting the basket down, then reaching over to grab two hotdogs from the warmer. She placed them neatly on the tray like she was still trying to figure out if this counted as real food.

Then Vi stopped in front of the slurpee machine, just… stared at it.

Caitlyn walked over. “What’s wrong?”

Vi turned toward her with a sheepish grin—genuine and kind of ridiculous. “Can I get a slurpee?”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “You’re an adult. If you want a slurpee, get a slurpee. Uncle Vander’s not here to scold you about freezing your brain.”

Vi grinned wider and grabbed the biggest cup available.

Caitlyn made a small sound in her throat—not quite a laugh, not quite disapproval.

Vi glanced at her, grin faltering. “What?”

Caitlyn shook her head. “Nothing. Go on. Get your slurpee.”

If Vi wanted to freeze her brain on syrup and ice, Caitlyn wasn’t going to stop her.

While Vi was at the machine, carefully filling a large cup with bright pink, bubble gum-flavored slurpee, Caitlyn stayed near the counter, pouring hot water into the noodle bowls and peeling off the lids.

She focused on it—keeping her hands busy, letting the steam fog her glasses a little as the noodles softened.

When everything was ready, they gathered up the tray and basket and headed to the counter.

That’s when it hit her.

As the store clerk started scanning their items, Caitlyn’s face went pale.

She patted her pockets.

Twice.

Nothing.

Vi leaned in, brow furrowing. “You okay? What’s wrong?”

Caitlyn hesitated, then bit her lip and gave a small sigh. “I… forgot my wallet.”

Vi blinked, then laughed softly and reached into her back pocket. “It’s fine. My treat.”

She pulled out her wallet—thin, worn, but organized. “Good thing one of us is responsible.”

Caitlyn exhaled sharply, a little dramatic. “It’s inside my bag. I never take it out,” she muttered.

Vi opened the wallet and counted out the bills. “Yeah, yeah,” she said, voice warm. “It’s okay, baby. I got this.”

Caitlyn went still for half a second.

There it was again.

Baby.

So casual, like it didn’t mean anything at all.

Caitlyn wasn’t sure what irritated her more—the part of her that liked hearing it, or the thought that Vi might be calling someone else that, too.

After Vi paid for everything, she took the paper bag with the snacks and drinks, and they each grabbed a tray. They stepped outside and sat at one of the metal tables just outside the store.

The air was cooler now, but still carried the thick, familiar scent of the city—fried oil, asphalt, and a hint of something sweet from the slurpee machine still running inside.

They sat down and started getting their food ready.

Caitlyn took the spicy noodle bowl, slid the milder one over to Vi without saying much. Vi glanced at hers, then at Caitlyn’s, noticing the difference.

“You don’t like food that’s too spicy,” Caitlyn said offhandedly, tearing open a bag of chips.

Vi made a quiet sound. “Yeah… I don’t.”

She paused, looking at her for a beat longer. “Didn’t expect you to remember that.”

Caitlyn shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Vi didn’t answer. She just gave a small shake of her head, pulled her chopsticks apart, and they both started eating.

A few minutes passed in silence, just the sound of noodles being slurped and the occasional crunch of a chip.

Vi reached into the bag and took out the drinks. She opened one of the bottles and set it in front of Caitlyn without a word. She didn’t open the other—didn’t need to. Her giant slurpee was more than enough.

Her dad would’ve made a face at that.

Vi chuckled softly, picking at her noodles. “My dad never let me have slurpee when I was younger,” she said, still looking at the cup.

Caitlyn glanced up at her, mid-bite, chewing slowly. The corner of her mouth had a bit of broth on it.

Vi reached for a tissue without thinking, leaned over the table, and wiped the spot gently. “He said it wasn’t good for my brain. Said if I got brain freeze, it might never unfreeze again.”

She grinned, eyes flicking back to the cup. “I actually believed him for a while.”

Caitlyn chuckled, rolled her eyes. “You were so gullible.”

Vi gave a short huff, but she was smiling. “I was a kid.”

Caitlyn sat up straighter in her seat. “I heard your dad’s back in Zaun.”

Vi nodded. “Yeah. He’s at the ranch. Playing cowboy again.”

That made Caitlyn laugh, a soft sound, before her smile faded just a little. “I haven’t been to the ranch in a while…”

The moment hung there. Quiet. Both of them stopped eating.

Vi tapped her chopsticks once against the side of her bowl, then said, not really a question—more like something she already knew, “You haven’t told your parents yet.”

Caitlyn made a small sound in her throat. “I don't think you told your dad either.”

Vi smiled, slow and faint, and brought her slurpee to her lips. She sipped carefully, avoiding the brain freeze she knew was waiting.

She set it back down. “So… when were you planning to tell them?”

Caitlyn stirred her noodles with her chopsticks, not looking up right away. “When the divorce is final,” she said. “When we’re not married anymore.”

Then she looked at Vi.

“What about you?” she asked. “When are you telling your dad?”

Vi leaned back in her seat, shrugging lightly. “Probably the same. When it’s done. When there’s no turning back.”

Vi then glanced at the sky beyond the storefront. “We should probably go home. It’s getting late.”

Caitlyn nodded too, quiet. No argument.

They started clearing the table—plastic trays, empty wrappers, crumpled napkins. Vi grabbed the unfinished chips, dropped them back in the paper bag along with the unopened ones, the hotdogs they didn’t eat, and the juice bottles.

No one said anything on the way back to the car.

They walked in silence.

The drive back to the townhouse felt different. Quieter. Not awkward, just… still. Neither of them tried to fill the space with words.

When Vi parked outside the townhouse, they both stayed seated.

She didn’t move to open Caitlyn’s door.

And Caitlyn didn’t move to open it herself.

They just sat there, the engine clicking as it cooled down.

Then Caitlyn sighed. “I’m fine with not telling our parents yet. But if we’re waiting until everything’s finalized, that means we’ll have to keep meeting up.”

Vi looked over at her. “For what? Stuff like dinners?”

“Social functions,” Caitlyn said. “Things they expect us to show up to together. Like the Gala.”

Vi shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

She paused then asked. “Do you?”

Caitlyn shook her head. “Not really.”

Vi nodded again. “If we’re not telling anyone we’re getting divorced,” she said, “then we still have to act married. At those things.”

“I know,” Caitlyn replied, looking ahead. “It’s fine.”

There was a pause.

Vi tried to lighten it, tried to make a joke out of it, even forced a smile as she said, “So… you seeing anyone new now? I mean... I don't want to be stepping on anyone's toes.”

She wanted it to sound like teasing.

It didn’t.

Not to her, anyway.

But Caitlyn answered. She tilted her head slightly toward Vi, one eyebrow raised. “Do you honestly think I’d start dating someone this soon?”

Vi let out a laugh, short and uneven. “Guess not.”

Caitlyn was quiet for a second, then asked softly, “What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

Vi shrugged. “Just the punching bag at the gym.”

That got a small smile out of Caitlyn. But only for a second.

Then came the quiet again. Heavier now.

After a moment, Caitlyn said, “We probably shouldn’t be seeing each other more than what’s necessary.”

Vi didn’t say anything at first.

Then nodded slowly. “Yeah… we shouldn’t.”

She felt the lie leave her mouth before she could stop it.

Caitlyn opened her door and stepped out. Vi followed, grabbing the paper bag from the backseat. Groceries, kind of. If you could even call it that.

They walked up to the townhouse.

Caitlyn stopped at the door, let out a groan, and leaned forward until her forehead pressed against it.

Vi blinked, holding back a laugh. “Let me guess,” she said, shifting the bag in her arms. “Your key’s in your bag too.”

Caitlyn let out a low, dramatic whine.

Vi raised an eyebrow, amused. “What was that?”

Caitlyn sighed and turned to her. “Can you please open the door?”

They looked at each other for a moment.

No one moved.

Then Vi reached into her pocket, pulled out the key, and handed it to her.

“You can take it,” she said quietly. “If you want. I don’t live here anymore.”

Caitlyn turned the key and pushed the door open. The lock clicked, and the hallway lights spilled onto the floor.

She pulled the key out slowly, then held it out to Vi. “You can keep it,” she said. “In case I lock myself out again.”

Her voice stayed even, but her chest felt tight.

They needed to end this.

Whatever this night was—whatever it was turning into—it shouldn’t be happening. They were done. Divorced. There wasn’t any reason left to be around each other like this. Not at night. Not laughing. Not... comfortable.

“Hey,” Vi said.

Caitlyn looked over.

Vi cleared her throat and held out the paper bag. Caitlyn reached for it automatically.

And even after the internal debate she’d had with herself just seconds ago, she couldn’t stop the words from coming out.

“Do you… want to come in?” she asked. “Maybe have some coffee or something. You know... as a thank you for treating me to dinner?”

Vi’s eyes widened just slightly. She bit her bottom lip, hesitating.

Then she let out a soft sigh. “Yeah. Coffee sounds nice.”

Caitlyn nodded, shifting the bag in her hands as she stepped aside to let her in.

Vi walked past her, and Caitlyn turned to close the door.

When she turned back around, Vi was standing right there.

Too close.

They stared at each other—longer than they should’ve.

Vi’s voice was quiet. “We really shouldn’t be seeing each other like this anymore.”

She leaned in, just a little.

Caitlyn inhaled sharply, her eyes fluttering shut for half a second. The scent hit her immediately—clean, calm, fresh... Lavenders.

She nodded. “Yes. We shouldn’t.”

Her voice came out lower than she meant it to. “It would just... complicate things.”

But she didn’t move. Didn’t step back.

Vi moved in closer. Her lips were right there—barely an inch between them.

Then Vi licked her lips, slow and careful, like she was still deciding.

Her voice dropped. “Yeah. We don’t want to complicate things now. Not when we've signed the papers and all...”

Caitlyn barely had time to breathe in before Vi’s lips were on hers.

She melted into the kiss, lips parting easily as Vi deepened it. She let out a quiet moan when Vi’s tongue slid into her mouth, slow but sure.

Vi’s hands found her waist—warm, firm, familiar—and pulled her in. Caitlyn let the paper bag slip from her hands. It hit the floor with a soft thud, contents scattering—but she didn’t care. Her arms rose, wrapping behind Vi’s neck, pulling her even closer.

She felt Vi pushing her gently against the door, kissing her deeper this time, more intense. Caitlyn’s fingers moved into Vi’s hair, gripping it without thinking, while her other hand moved to Vi’s chest, fingers curling, squeezing—and that drew a moan from Vi this time.

Then Vi broke the kiss, her lips brushing against Caitlyn’s neck, breathing in deeply like she’d missed this. Like she couldn’t get enough of it.

Caitlyn closed her eyes, body pressed fully against Vi’s, already feeling where this was going.

She wanted to.

She really, really wanted to.

Then Vi whispered it—right against her skin.

“I missed you so much, baby.”

And Caitlyn froze.

Chapter Text

Vi felt it immediately—the way Caitlyn’s body tensed against hers.

She lifted her head to check, her eyes searching Caitlyn’s face.

Caitlyn wasn’t looking at her. She was staring off to the side, biting her bottom lip the way she always did when her thoughts were moving too fast.

Vi let out a quiet sigh and slowly stepped back, putting some space between them.

The sudden loss of contact must’ve jolted something, because Caitlyn blinked and looked at her. Her cheeks were flushed, and she groaned quietly, pressing her forehead to Vi’s shoulder.

“What are we doing?” Caitlyn asked, voice low.

Vi smirked, her hands settling at Caitlyn’s waist again, thumbs moving in small circles. “Well… we were making out,” she said, “until you decided to take a solo trip somewhere inside your brain.”

Caitlyn didn’t laugh.

Vi’s smile faded just a little. “What’s wrong?”

Caitlyn pulled back and met her eyes. There was something in her expression—tight, tired, unsure.

“What are we doing, Vi?” she asked again.

Vi was about to throw out something light, something to deflect—but Caitlyn cut in before she could.

“I thought we were done with this,” she said. “This push and pull game between us.”

Caitlyn let out a long sigh, dragging her hands down her face before running them back through her hair. Then she walked past Vi without a word, heading straight for the living room.

She sank into the couch, one hand resting on her knee, the other covering her mouth like she was still piecing something together.

Vi was starting to feel like an ass.

For being here. For pretending she was just being nice. For telling herself it was about dinner and groceries. For kissing her. For saying I missed you.

Janna.

She let out a breath and followed—but stopped at the entryway, leaning against the frame, not crossing the line between them.

“I’m not playing a game with you,” she said, voice low. Almost too quiet.

Caitlyn looked up. Her expression wasn’t sharp—just tired. Her eyes locked on Vi’s, and her voice came out flat.

“Then what are we doing?”

She didn’t wait for an answer before continuing.

“Because this… this feels exactly the same as before. When we were married. And if I remember right, you’re the one who said you didn’t want it anymore.”

Her voice cracked just slightly at the end.

“You didn’t want the push and pull. You didn’t want to keep trying. You didn’t want the marriage. Period.”

Vi let out another sigh, heavier this time, before she finally pushed off the doorframe and crossed the room.

She knelt down in front of Caitlyn, slowly, like her body wasn’t sure if it had the right to be that close. Her hands came to rest gently on Caitlyn’s thighs, her thumbs brushing over the fabric there.

Her voice was quiet. “Yeah,” she said. “I didn’t want the push and pull. I didn’t want to keep trying. I didn’t want the marriage anymore…”

She paused, exhaled through her nose, then looked up into Caitlyn’s eyes.

“But I still want you.”

Her voice cracked just slightly.

“I want to try again. And maybe this time, we’ll finally get it right.”

She felt Caitlyn’s breath catch. Vi’s grip tightened just a little—not to hold her in place, just to stay grounded.

“Maybe this time… we could be together for the right reason.”

She swallowed.

“Because I think we could make it work. I think we could actually be happy.”

Her eyes searched Caitlyn’s face.

“We were happy once, weren’t we?” she asked. “Even if it started as just our parents wanting us to be together… it didn’t feel... It wasn't fake all the time, right?”

A small breath. “Maybe we could do it again.”

Her voice dropped lower.

“But real this time.”

Caitlyn let out a shaky breath, her gaze still locked on Vi as the words echoed in her head.

Somewhere inside her—somewhere she didn’t always want to admit—she did want to try again.

She hadn’t fully wanted the divorce. Not then.

But it felt like she was the only one left trying. Like Vi had already moved on emotionally, and Caitlyn was still standing there, gripping a rope that no one else was holding anymore.

So she gave in.

Besides, she asked for the divorce too didn't she? Even if part of her wanted to take it back the second she had enough time to think.

Vi had said she was tired. Tired of the fighting. Tired of the weight. Tired of trying to make something work that just… didn’t.

And now—Vi was back. Sitting in front of her. Saying she wanted to try again.

But what guarantee did she have that Vi wouldn’t give up again? That she wouldn’t check out the second things got heavy? That Caitlyn wouldn’t be left alone, again, holding everything in her hands and trying to patch it back together?

Still, the words came out—quiet, hesitant.

“What’s the point of trying again… when we’re not even married anymore?”

Vi smiled, just a little, and shrugged. Her thumbs rubbed slow circles into Caitlyn’s thighs.

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” she said.

Caitlyn tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing. “How is that a good thing?”

Vi gave her a soft smile—one that didn’t feel rushed or fake. “Because now we’re not doing it because we have to. No pressure. No contract.”

She paused, then looked at her with that same softness. “If you decide to try again… it’s because you want to.”

Then, quieter still—gentle, careful.

“Do you want to?”

Caitlyn sighed, her lips pulling into a small frown.

“Even if I wanted to,” she said quietly, “I don’t think we should.”

She reached down and gently moved Vi’s hands off her thighs, then leaned forward, resting one arm across her knees while the other lifted, her fingers slipping into Vi’s hair, slow and uncertain.

Her voice dropped. “What if we can’t see eye to eye again? What if we fight and say things we can’t take back?”

She swallowed, eyes flicking between Vi’s.

“What if I can’t meet your expectations again? What if you get tired and check out… like before?”

There was a pause. Caitlyn didn’t pull her hand away, but her fingers had stopped moving.

Vi reached up slowly and cupped her face, holding her like something fragile.

“There’s no assurance,” Vi said, voice low.

“No more than I have that you won’t give up too,” she added. “When it starts to feel like too much… when it gets hard for you.”

She leaned in, pressing her forehead gently against Caitlyn’s.

“If we try again…” she whispered, “it’s a risk we both have to take.”

Caitlyn closed her eyes.

Vi was so close.

Her breath was warm against her skin, her hair soft between Caitlyn’s fingers, and her scent—it was familiar. Stronger now. It wrapped around her like a memory that never left.

Caitlyn leaned in, just slightly, and pressed her lips to Vi’s.

It was soft. Quick. Gentle.

Then she pulled back.

“I’m really slow when it comes to feelings,” Caitlyn said, her voice low. “Sometimes I don’t get things right away. I’m good at reading people when it’s about work. I understand why people do what they do... when it’s in that context. But outside of that, I struggle.”

Vi nodded slowly, then leaned in and kissed her back. Just as soft. Just as brief.

“I’ll try to be more understanding,” Vi said quietly.

Caitlyn leaned back against the couch, putting a little space between them. “I’m not romantic,” she added. “I don’t always know when something’s supposed to be romantic. So if I miss it, don’t get mad. Don’t yell.”

Vi gave a small smile and shifted, moving to sit beside her.

“That’s fine,” she said, settling in. “I’ll just tell you when I’m doing something romantic, so you can plan your reaction in advance.”

Caitlyn smiled. Then she laughed, light and honest, and swatted Vi’s leg with her palm. Before she could pull her hand back, Vi caught her wrist and tugged gently, shifting her body as she leaned back against the sofa—pulling Caitlyn with her.

Caitlyn didn’t resist.

She let Vi pull her gently down until she was lying on top of her, their bodies stretched out across the couch. Caitlyn shifted slightly, resting her head on the armrest so their faces were leveled, close enough that she could feel Vi’s breath on her cheek.

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

Then Vi’s voice came, soft. “Do you want to try?”

Caitlyn made a small sound in her throat. Not quite yes, but not no either. “If I did…” she said slowly, “could we take it slow?”

Vi tilted her head, watching her. “What do you mean by slow? Like... dates?” She hesitated, then added, “And uh, no kissing? No staying over for sex?”

Caitlyn smiled.

“Kissing’s fine.”

Vi hummed under her breath, eyebrows pulling together just a little. “So kissing is fine, but no sex?”

She turned her head to face Caitlyn fully, pouting just a bit. “You do remember we were married for five years, right? We’ve had sex. Like... a lot of times.”

Caitlyn smiled, eyes soft. She reached up and cupped Vi’s cheek. “Well, we’re starting over, aren’t we? Getting to know each other like it’s the first time.”

She paused, then added with a slight raise of her brow, “Soooo… that means whatever happened in our marriage is now null and void.”

Vi let out a sigh, dramatic and defeated. “Fine. Okay.”

They stayed like that for a while—quiet, close, just breathing.

Vi’s fingers traced slow circles on Caitlyn’s back. Then she asked, voice gentle, “Any other rules or boundaries I should know about?”

Caitlyn hummed. “Sometimes… I just want to be alone. To read, or watch something by myself. Quiet time where I can think.”

She glanced at Vi. “It’s not that I don’t want to be with you. I just need that space sometimes.”

Vi nodded. “Okay... but what about those times when we’re together, just… doing our own thing? Same room, different activities. You okay with that, or is that too much too?”

Caitlyn shook her head. “No, that’s fine. We can be in the same space doing different things.”

Vi nodded. “Okay… but if we’re not having sex, can we at least cuddle?”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, teasing. “What do you think we’re doing right now?”

Vi laughed. “So that’s a yes, then? I can stay over and we can cuddle?”

Caitlyn shook her head again, but she was smiling. “We can cuddle, but you have to go home after. No staying over until…”

Vi narrowed her eyes. “Until when?”

Caitlyn let out a soft sigh. “Until we’re sure we’re together.”

Vi tilted her head. “And how exactly are we supposed to know when that is?”