We were filming something?

Suddenly Ari's eyes flicker with a spark of something—hope, maybe, or desperation—as she gestures toward the nightstand where her phone lies face-down, screen dark. "I remember we were filming something," she says, her voice picking up a thread of urgency. "A dare. Some kind of challenge. Maybe we recorded it." She reaches for the phone with the sheet still clutched to her chest, her movements tentative. "If we can see what actually happened, maybe we didn't—" She doesn't finish the sentence, but the weight of it hangs between them. "Maybe we just passed out. Maybe nothing happened."

Valentin stomach knots at the possibility. A part of him wants to grab the phone and smash it against the wall, to keep the mystery intact. But another part—the part that's still hard from watching her stretch—wants to see the truth, no matter what it reveals. He exhales slowly, his gaze fixed on her fingers as they hover over the screen. "If we did film it," he says, his voice low, "are you sure you want to watch it? Because that's not the kind of thing you can unsee." Ari pauses, her thumb hovering, her lips pressed into a thin line. "I need to know," she says quietly. "I need to know if I cheated on him or if I just... drank too much and slept in the wrong bed." He swallows, the word 'cheated' landing like a stone in his chest. He doesn't know which answer is worse.

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