Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1 A.M. in the hotel – Chloé’s suite

Chloé just got out of the shower, hair still damp and loose, sprawled against the pillows scrolling on her phone like she owns the night.

Only the soft amber wall lights were on, making her skin glow almost white.

“The door’s not locked,” she said without even looking up. “Come in or don’t. Your call.”

Zoé stood outside for a couple seconds.
Then pushed the door open real slow.
She padded in barefoot, wearing nothing but a thin little nightie, hair messy, eyes puffy and red.

Chloé glanced over and smirked.
“What, somebody just chew you out or something?”

Zoé stopped at the foot of the bed, head down, not saying a word.

Chloé tossed her phone aside, voice low and lazy, eyes half-lidded.

“You know what you look like right now?”
She sat up a little, crossing her legs, staring down at her.

“Like a lost puppy nobody wants.”

Zoé lifted her head, eyes shaky.

“Somebody kicks you and you still wag your tail. Somebody throws you a sweet word and you come running.”

She crooked a finger.
“Come here. Down.”

Zoé dropped to her knees without a second thought, palms on the carpet, moving like she was begging for a pat on the head.

Chloé laughed under her breath, slid down to the edge of the bed, and nudged Zoé’s chin up with her bare foot.

“You’re real good at playing obedient.”

“But I don’t buy it for a second.”

Zoé’s lips parted like she wanted to speak, but she just brushed her cheek against Chloé’s ankle instead.

“You like this, huh?” Chloé’s smile was sweet and vicious all at once.

“Me sitting here while you crawl?”
“Me cursing at you, stepping on you, treating you like dirt—and you still won’t leave?”

She leaned in, grabbed a fistful of hair at the back of Zoé’s neck, and yanked her head up.

Zoé swallowed hard, eyes glassy, but she didn’t look away.

“You think this is love?”

“Nah. This is just you being pathetic.”

She leaned close enough that her lips brushed Zoé’s ear.

“You don’t deserve love.”

“You only deserve to be my toy.”

“Begging to lick my fingers, my feet, waiting for me to tell you to sit, roll over, and fuck off.”

“That’s it, isn’t it?”

Zoé’s fingers curled against the carpet. She sank lower.

Chloé grabbed her chin, squeezing until her mouth opened.

“Still dreaming I’ll pet you one day and call you a good girl?”
“Keep dreaming.”
“I only say ‘good girl’ so you learn tricks faster and moan louder.”

She snatched a silk ribbon off the nightstand, looped it around Zoé’s neck, and tugged.

“Chin up. Let me see mine little pup.”
Zoé lifted her head.

Eyes foggy, ears bright red, teeth marks on her lip from biting it.
But she didn’t fight it.

Hell, she even darted her tongue out and licked Chloé’s fingertip.
Chloé’s eyes went colder.

“You think that’s gonna make me happy?”

“One little lick and you want a spot at the foot of my bed?”

She leaned back, yanked the ribbon. Zoé stumbled forward and collapsed against her legs.

Chloé didn’t push her away.

Just pressed Zoé’s face into her thigh and said, real quiet,

“Stay. Don’t move.”

“Whine all you want—no one’s coming.”

Zoé didn’t make a sound.

She just nuzzled closer, like she was praying for a kiss that was never gonna happen.

Chloé looked down and laughed, soft and mean.

“You really are something.”

“…Whatever. I like you best when I’ve got my foot on your neck and you’re still wagging.”
She pulled her leg back, slow, like she was bored of the clinging—or maybe gearing up for something crueler.

“Floor’s no fun anymore.”

She patted the bed. “Up. Get in position.”
Zoé blinked, looked up with those scared, desperate eyes.

Chloé smirked. “What, you want me to pet you or something?”

She dragged the words out, icy and teasing.
“Then make it easy for me to use you.”

Zoé’s hands shook. She climbed up, knees first, crawling to the middle of the bed, inching toward Chloé like she was scared to get too close too fast.

Chloé lounged back against the pillows, looking down at her like a queen.

She traced a lazy circle on Zoé’s collarbone.
“Fast learner, huh, pup?”

Her hand slid to Zoé’s waist, testing, claiming.

Zoé’s breath hitched.
She knew exactly what was coming.
Not affection. Not tenderness.

Just use.

And still, her breath hitched.

Chloé pushed the nightie up. Zoé went scarlet, thighs trembling, skin already slick with nervous sweat.

She tried to cover herself—Chloé caught her wrist mid-move.

“No hiding.” She leaned in, teeth grazing Zoé’s ear. “You’re mine. I look, I touch, I decide. Got it?”

Zoé’s voice cracked. “…Got it.”

“Got what?” Chloé’s fingers slipped under the waistband of her panties, teasing.
“Say it right.”

Zoé was already crying. “I’m yours… my body’s yours… do whatever you want…”
Chloé hummed, pleased, and dragged the panties down.

“Look at you—soaked already.”
Zoé hid her face in her arms, ears burning.
“Tell me,” Chloé said, rubbing slow circles, “what got you this wet? Thinking about me fucking you? Or thinking about me treating you like trash?”

No answer.

Smack.

Chloé’s hand came down hard on her ass.
“Im asking you a question.”
Zoé sobbed. “Thinking about you… couldn’t help it… soon as you started yelling at me I just… I got wet…”

“little slut.”

One hand pinned Zoé’s hips, the other shoved between her legs.
No warm-up.
Two fingers slammed in deep.
Zoé jolted like she’d been shocked, whole body curling.
She tried to close her thighs—Chloé forced them wide.
“Keep them open. Try closing them once and you’re out the door.”
Zoé whimpered, “Won’t… won’t close them…”

Face buried in Chloé’s thigh, shaking like a leaf, tears soaking the sheets.

Chloé didn’t soften an inch. Just bent down and bit her shoulder, slow, marking.

Her fingers twisted inside, hitting every nerve on purpose.

“Your body’s more honest than you are,” she whispered. “Crying no while you’re sucking me in like you’ll die without it.”

Zoé couldn’t even talk—just broken little gasps, rubbing against Chloé like a needy dog.

“Make that sound again,” Chloé said, tapping her cheek. “The one from before.”

Zoé fell apart. “Please… please fuck me… please…”

“Please what?”

“Please let me come… please touch me…”

“Only begging now?”

Chloé laughed, cold, and finally sped up—really going for it.

Fingers pumping fast, wet sounds filling the room.

Smack—right on the inside of her thigh.

“Louder. I wanna hear exactly what you
sound like when you lose it.”

Zoé shattered. “Ah—Chloé—can’t—I’m—gonna—”

“Then come crying for me. Show me how pathetic you are.”

Zoé’s breath stopped. Her whole body seized.

“Sister…” she sobbed, messy and wrecked, “I like you… I like you so much…”
Chloé’s eyes narrowed.

“Like me?”
A short laugh.
“I never say that I like you .”

Zoé turned her face away, fresh tears spilling.

Chloé grabbed her chin, forced her to look.

“But you want me.”

Soft as a kiss, sharp as glass.

“That I can see.”
One last brutal thrust, right where it counted—
Zoé came undone, crying and shaking in Chloé’s hand.
Tears wouldn’t stop.

Chloé pulled her fingers out slow, trailing slick all the way.

“Jesus, look at the mess you made.”
She held them up in front of Zoé’s face, smirking.

Then grabbed a fistful of hair, tilted her head back.
“Open. Clean them.”

Zoé’s eyes were blank, face drenched, but her tongue came out anyway.

She licked—slow, careful, like it was the only treat she’d ever get.

Taste of herself, salt, shame—didn’t matter. She kept going.

Chloé pushed two fingers into her mouth.
“Suck. Be a good girl .”

Zoé gagged a little, tears rolling faster, but swirled her tongue around every knuckle until they were spotless.

Chloé watched the whole thing, finally gave a lazy smile and ruffled her hair.

“There we go.”

Two little pats on the head—like rewarding a pet that did its trick.

“Enough for tonight.”

Then she shoved Zoé off the bed, no warning.

Pointed at the door.

“Not sleeping here. Back to your kennel.”

Zoé hit the carpet, still twitching from aftershocks, tears dripping onto the floor.
But the corner of her mouth lifted—just a tiny, stupid, happy smile.

She knew it wasn’t love.

But she still wanted more.

Chapter Text

The next day was a workday. Dawn had barely broken, a thin line of pale light slipping through the gap of the penthouse curtains.

Chloé was still sitting at the edge of the bed, wearing a fitted striped shirt, slowly pulling on her sweater.

She had assumed that little “dog” had been used hard enough last night and would finally behave today.

Knock, knock—

The door was tapped.

Lightly. Like a small animal pawing at it.

She didn’t answer.

A few seconds later, the sound came again. Even softer this time, almost apologetic.

“…Sister…”
The voice trembled like wind through paper.
“Can I… come in?”

Chloé smiled. And said nothing.

But she stood, walked over, and opened the door.

Zoé was exactly where she expected her to be—at the threshold, eyes red, hair a mess, coat forgotten, clutching her little bag like she’d run straight from the elevator.

Chloé leaned against the doorframe, half-lidded eyes taking her in.

“What? Didn’t get enough last night?”

Zoé whispered, “It’s almost time for school… but I… I still…”

Her voice cracked.

“I kept thinking about you…”

Chloé narrowed her eyes and stepped aside.
“Come in.”

The door closed.

She grabbed Zoé instantly, slamming her back against the door, staring her down with icy precision.

“It’s 7:30 a.m. You’re supposed to clock into school in an hour.”

“So you come here to beg me to fuck you?”

Zoé’s cheeks burned red, but she nodded anyway.

“Beg for what?” Chloé pinched her chin. “Say it.”

“…Please… touch me… I’ll behave…”

Chloé snorted.
“Are you a dog?”

Zoé gently nuzzled her wrist, obedient, eager—
“…Yes.”

“Then get on all fours.”

Chloé kicked a chair out of the way and shoved her down onto the carpet, lowering her voice:

“No noise. Don’t mess up my clothes. And do not say my name.”

“If you want to come, you hold it yourself.”

Zoé already looked like she might cry, but lowered herself even more.

Chloé yanked down her panties in one tug, using her fingertips to part the traces that still remained from last night.

“You didn’t wash? ”She sneered. “Still wet.

“You touch yourself this morning?”

Zoé shook her head frantically, breath catching.
“No… I didn’t… I only thought of you… I didn’t dare…”

“Then lick it clean.”

Chloé pushed two fingers into her, twisted, then pulled them out and pressed them against Zoé’s lips.

“Lick.”

Zoé trembled and obeyed, tasting herself like someone taking the first careful bite of breakfast.

Chloé shoved her finger further, all the way inside her mouth.

“Don’t waste it.”

Zoé choked, tears spilling. Chloé’s voice dipped lower, amused:

“Look at you now. You’re really starting to act like my dog.”

She crouched down, placed a palm on Zoé’s head, stroking her like a small trembling animal.

“Good girl. Ten minutes. I’ll give you what you want.”

She slid her fingers back inside Zoé—no teasing this time—thrusting deep.

Zoé bit her hand, shaking uncontrollably.

“Make a sound,” Chloé ordered.
“A dog’s sound.”

Then Chloé added a second finger—her ring finger—deliberately stretching her. Zoé slapped blindly at Chloé’s wrist as if to stop her.

“Hm?” Chloé gave a soft, cold laugh.

And pushed in harder.

She stroked that tender spot inside her again and again until—

“Mm—!”

Zoé’s tears finally broke. She twisted, hands bracing behind her on the carpet, hips shaking as she scrambled to offer herself properly, soft sobs spilling from her throat like a wounded little creature. Her thighs clenched and loosened in desperate rhythm.

Chloé licked her lips, eyes narrowing.

“Good.”

Then, without a warning, she pulled her fingers out.

“But I’m tired now.”

She stood and walked toward the bathroom without looking back.

Leaving the freshly ruined little dog trembling on the floor, breathless and undone.

“You still want more?” she asked over her shoulder.

Zoé knelt there, crying, nodding fast.
“Yes… I want… I want anything… as long as you still want me…”

Chloé scoffed.
“Then today, at school, you do exactly what I say. You know how this works.”

She grabbed Zoé’s bag from the sofa and tossed it at her feet.

“I’ll pretend nothing happened.”
She crossed her arms, turning just enough to look her over.

“And you—” she stood in the bathroom doorway, Her gaze swept Zoé up and down.
“—you’ll sit in the back row smelling me.”

“No one will know.”

Zoé nodded, eyes red, kneeling and staring up at her Chloé.

When Chloé finally washed her hand and stepped out of the bathroom, Zoé suddenly spoke.

“C-Can I still… go to school with you today?”

“Hah?” Chloé returned to the dressing area, fixing her hair.

After a few seconds of silence.

“…Whatever . As long as you don’t go into heat in the car.” She shifted her gaze from the mirror, glanced at Zoé who was still kneeling half-dressed on the carpet.

“Hurry up and fuck off to take a shower. I don’t want my car smelling like horny dog later,” Chloé added viciously.

Zoé lowered her head.
She rose slowly, picked up her clothes, and walked toward the door, looking every bit the obedient scolded pet.

But the corners of her mouth curled upward.

This—this was the real Chloé.
Cruel, selfish, dismissive of everything,
yet fragile in ways only she could see.

Her Chloé.
Her “sister.”
Chloé Bourgeois.

And the moment she pictured sitting beside her in that car, sunlight slipping through the window, going to school together—

The invisible little tail in her heart began wagging wildly again.

Chapter Text

Morning at school carried a thin winter chill.

Zoé sat quietly in the back row, doing exactly what Chloé had ordered her to do:
she didn’t go near her,
didn’t speak to her,
didn’t even let herself look for more than a heartbeat.

She held a book upright and pretended to read, though her eyes kept wandering—
always toward one person.

And that person?

Chloé Bourgeois stood in the center of the hallway like she owned the school.

She laughed loudly, tossed her ponytail, rolled her eyes with practiced elegance.
She showed off her newest limited-edition bag to the crowd around her, voice bright and sharp as crystal.

She hadn’t spared Zoé a single glance.

It was as if the morning in the hotel—
Zoé kneeling on her carpet, tears on her cheeks, Chloé’s breath close enough to taste—
had been nothing more than a lonely dream.

During lunch, Zoé placed her tray on the table with timid care.
For a moment, she almost rose to approach Chloé.

But then she saw Chloé leaning toward Sabrina, whispering something smug, and the impulse died in her throat.

Chloé had said:
“Don’t come to me at school.”

Zoé never broke her rules.

She kept her head down, poking at her food, until someone sat beside her.

“Hey, Zoé?”
Marinette’s voice.

Zoé blinked in surprise, then her eyes brightened—
finally, someone was speaking to her.

“Why are you so quiet today?” Marinette asked gently. “Did something happen?”

Zoé shook her head. “No… I just… Chloé told me to act like this.”

Marinette smiled. “You really do listen to her.”

The warmth in those words melted something inside Zoé.
Was that… praise?
Chloé never says something like that .

“Do you… want to eat with me?” Zoé asked, almost shyly.

“Of course!”

And so, for the first time that day, Zoé wasn’t sitting alone.

They talked about assignments, clubs, an upcoming exhibit at the Louvre.
Zoé’s laugh was soft—gentle in a way she rarely let herself be.

What she didn’t notice, from across the cafeteria, was Chloé watching.

Her expression looked calm.
Her eyes did not.

She stared at Zoé the way an apex predator watches prey that has wandered too far from its cage.

Beside her, Sabrina thought she wanted to pick a fight with Marinette again.
“Do you want me to—

“Shut up,” Chloé snapped, flicking her hand away.

That mutt was smiling at another girl.
Laughing with her.
Sparkling.

And with Marinette Dupain-Cheng that baker girl of all people.

A heat rose in Chloé’s chest—foreign, unwelcome, suffocating.
She refused to name it.

She narrowed her eyes, pretended she saw nothing, and turned away.
But the burning sensation stayed lodged in her chest—
She didn’t understand it.
She only knew she hated it.

Zoé belonged to her.
But she could never say it aloud.
So she buried the feeling beneath sharpened anger and walked away.

⸻

That night — the hotel suite

At 8:30 PM, the city lights glittered beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Chloé sat in front of them, gently swirling a drink, posture elegant, expression unreadable.

Inside, she was nothing but chaos.

Zoé’s smile replayed in her mind—
pathetic.
Her laughter—
disgusting.
Chatting with Marinette—
unacceptable.

And the memory of that morning—Zoé kneeling on her carpet, crying, begging for her attention—
only made the contrast burn deeper.

She squeezed her glass so tightly it nearly cracked.

Then—

Knock knock.

Soft.
Too soft.

That knock had a signature—
a little animal scratching for permission.

Chloé closed her eyes and breathed in deeply.

Here we go

The knock came again, even more careful.

“…Sister ? C-can I come in…?”

The tiny voice—fragile, trembling—slid under her skin like poison she’d grown addicted to.

Chloé finally stood and walked toward the door—

Click.

She swung it open.

Zoé stood there, head bowed, jacket zipped to her chin, bag still on her shoulder—like a child who had run straight here the moment school ended.

“I—I did everything you asked today,” she murmured.
“I was good.”

Her eyes lifted with timid hope.

Chloé’s response was a blade:
“When did I say you could call me like that?”

She seized Zoé’s wrist, yanked her inside, and slammed the door.

Zoé had only a second to gasp before her back hit the door and Chloé caged her in place.

“You smiled a lot today.”

Zoé stuttered, “I—I was just talking to Marinette—”

“Shut up.”
Chloé’s grip tightened on her chin. “I don’t want your excuses.”

Zoé’s breath shook.“I only ate with her because I thought you didn’t want to talk to me,” she whispered. “So I…I..sat with a friend—”

“Friend?”
Chloé laughed without humor, eyes slicing like

That was what scraped Zoé nerves raw.

“She’s your ‘friend’ now? Since when do you think you have the right to make friends?”

Zoé froze as if struck.

Chloé leaned in, voice quiet, cold, devastating.

“You’re my little dog.”
“When I say sit in the back row, you sit.”
“When I tell you to be quiet, you’re silent.”
“I didn’t say you could smile at anyone.”
“And I definitely didn’t say you could spend lunch with some—friend.”

Zoé’s eyes filled instantly. “I didn’t mean to… I just thought—”

Chloé suddenly leaned closer, lips almost brushing hers.

“You were lonely?”
Her voice was venom.
“You thought I didn’t want you?
So you ran to someone else for warmth?”

“…No—”

“How cheap of you.”

Zoé broke then, tears sliding silently down her face.

“I just wanted you to be happy…”

Something in Chloé’s breath faltered—
that sentence hit too deep.

She jerked Zoé’s chin up harshly.

“Then why,” she demanded, voice shaking with emotion she refused to acknowledge,
“did you smile at someone else?”

Zoé blinked at her.
Then whispered the truth:

“Because… you wouldn’t look at me.”

Chloé’s entire body went still.

Three seconds of raw, vulnerable silence.

Then she tore herself out of it, grabbed Zoé and flung her onto the sofa, leaning over her like a storm.

“Enough,” she hissed. “I don’t want to hear another word.”

Zoé stared up at her with wide, frightened eyes—
and a tiny, hopeful smile.

Because she finally understood.

Chloé was jealous.

Chloé caught that smile and nearly exploded.

“You’re SMILING?!”

Knock knock.

A firmer knock cut the moment like a knife.

One second.

Two seconds.

A third, heavier knock.

Chloé lurched upright, breath stopping.

“Miss? It’s me, Paul.”
The butler spoke in a deferential tone. “Madam requests your presence immediately.”

The air froze solid.

Chloé stiffened as if drenched in ice water.
She straightened up, fixed her collar, smoothed her jacket, twisted her ponytail back into place—quick, sharp movements

Zoé sat on the sofa, trembling slightly, eyes rimmed red.

Chloé glanced at her—
and something fragile flickered in her expression before she shut it down.

She grabbed Zoé’s arm and dragged her toward the walk-in closet like tossing a plush toy.

“If you dare let anyone know you’re here…”

She shoved Zoé inside.

“—you’re done.”

Zoé bit her lip.“ I won’t…I promise.”

Chloé stared for two seconds.
Her gaze sharp, but something trembling underneath.

She didn’t want to leave.
She didn’t want anyone else to know Zoé was here.

She inhaled sharply, suppressing the strange ache in her chest.

“Get into the wardrobe. Hide.
No sound. No movement.”

Zoé obeyed immediately—
curling into the innermost corner like a well-trained little animal.

Chloé saw that and her fingers clenched around her sleeve.
She hated the feeling rising in her chest—
the urge to keep this girl hidden, kept, owned, unseen by anyone but her.

“I’ll be back soon.”

Zoé’s eyes lit instantly.
“You… you want me to wait for you?”

“I didn’t say that,” she snapped. “I said—if you’re gone when I return—you’re finished.”

She shot her a downward, warning glare—

Then turned sharply and left.

Bang!

The closet door shut hard.

Then she opened the suite door with perfect calm.

“What is it?” Her tone was emotionless.

“Madam wishes to see you,” Paul said with a bow.

“Fine.”

When the door closed behind her, silence flooded the room.

Inside the suite — Zoé alone

Darkness.

Zoé hugged her knees, hiding in the farthest corner, breathing shallowly.

She could still smell Chloé’s scent on the coats—
cold, sharp, expensive.
But right now, warm because it was hers.

She didn’t move.
Not even a rustle.

Two seconds.
Five.
Ten.

Finally, like a little animal peeking from its nest, she slowly poked her head out through the wardrobe gap.

Outside, the room was soft-lit, empty.

She slipped out carefully, like doing something forbidden.

For the first time—
She could exist in Chloé’s room.

Not kneeling.
Not flattened on the carpet.
Not shoved out.
Not told to get lost.

She had been left here.

For the first time ever—

She stood on the thick, plush carpet, her toes gently brushing the fibers—as if checking: —Was she really still here?

She was allowed to exist in Chloé’s room without being ordered to kneel or crawl or leave.

A strange, fragile happiness bloomed in her chest.

Chloé had said she’d be back.
Chloé had left her here.

That was enough to make Zoé’s heart flutter painfully.

Even though she covered it with threats,
Zoé heard everything hidden beneath.

She blushed.

This room held Chloé’s scent, shadows, traces.

Zoé tiptoed to the display shelf with Chloé’s bags and heels.

The glass glittered under the lights—
luxurious, dramatic, unmistakably Chloé.

Truthfully,
if these things weren’t Chloé’s,
Zoé wouldn’t look twice.

She grew up in New York,
sensitive, quiet, liking old books, street shops, worn canvas shoes.
These flashy luxury things weren’t her world.

But now—

Her fingers brushed the limited-edition bag.

So softly, like touching something sacred.

Not because it was expensive.
Because—

She didn’t like the bag.
She liked the person who owned it.

She traced it slowly, tenderly.

A small, bittersweet smile slipped out.

She lowered her head, breath fogging the glass.

She didn’t like luxury.
She didn’t like showing off.
She didn’t like anything “prestigious.”

But—

If it was Chloé’s,
she could love it.
If Chloé touched it,
she treasured it.
If it brought her closer to Chloé’s world,
she welcomed it.

Then she touched the high heels.

They’d kill her feet.
She couldn’t walk one step in them.

But she held the heel gently.

She touched Chloé’s heels—delicate, dangerous.
She imagined the sharp rhythm of Chloé’s footsteps echoing down marble floors.

A sound Zoé always found herself following.

She closed the display case like closing a precious book.

“Everything that belongs to you…
I can love it…”

She whispered.

The bed

Zoé approached the big bed, steps feather-light.

She lowered her gaze.

White sheets, faint imprints on the blanket, a strand of golden hair on the pillow—
all belonging to Chloé.

Zoé normally never dared get close.
She watched from afar, wondering what being held by that scent felt like.

But now—

Chloé told her to stay.

She could finally approach.

Zoé sat down carefully.
The sheet was warm.

Warm from Chloé.

She placed her palm fully against it, heart skipping.

Then she leaned forward and pressed half her face to the pillow.

The scent washed over her:

Cold, expensive citrus with sharp edges.
Pure Chloé.

Zoé inhaled, heart completely losing rhythm.

The pillow felt like an embrace.
Every breath was Chloé.

Her fingers curled, gripping the pillow corner like holding Chloé’s hand.

She lay down slowly, careful not to disturb the shape left behind.

Her eyes softened—

Chloé slept here.
Right here.

If Chloé were still here…
what would it be like?

She closed her eyes.

The pillow next to hers…
just inches apart.

If they both lay down—
Shoulders would touch.
Hands might brush.
Their breathing would weave together.

Her chest tightened painfully sweet.

She reached toward the other pillow—
toward where Chloé’s head usually rested.

Softly, she whispered:

“…You sleep here…”

“…If you were here now…”

“…we’d only be this close…”

She extended an arm, laying it over the empty space, pretending to hold someone.

Imagining Chloé’s warmth, breath, heartbeat.

Tears slid out—
not from sadness,
but from happiness too big to contain.

“Chloé…” her voice trembled.

“…maybe you don’t hate me as much as you say.”

“…maybe you want me close.”

“…maybe you want me to wait.

She didn’t know the answer.

But she knew—

“I’ll be back soon.”

—that line lit her whole world.

Zoé curled around the pillow like a little dog sneaking into her owner’s bed.

The bed was huge.
She was small.

But for the first time, she felt—

She wasn’t that far from Sister anymore.