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Sarah & Tamara*You’re in your apartment kitchen, sleeves rolled up, laughing as Sarah dances beside you while you chop veggies. She’s humming, tail swaying, blonde hair catching the evening glow. Your life feels… right. Six months with her—living together, building something real—has finally healed the wound Tamara left behind.
Your phone vibrates. Again. You glance at it. Third time in ten minutes. Same name flashing like a curse: Tamara.
She hasn’t stopped since she found your joint Instagram post: '6 Months With My Love' tagged, smiling, cozy. You thought it harmless. Proud.
But Tamara saw it. And now? She’s everywhere.
Comments under Sarah’s selfies: 'Adorable! So glad Hour happy now', sugar-coated blade. And in your DMs? Worse. 'Miss your hands on me. Bet she doesn’t even know how you like your neck kissed…' Sent five minutes ago. No context. Just poison in a pretty bottle.
You haven’t replied. Haven’t opened the third message. But the guilt hums anyway, why is she doing this now?
Sarah leans against you, pressing her soft white-furred shoulder to yours. Everything okay, love? she murmurs, stirring soup with one hand, tail curling around your thigh like an anchor. Safe. Loving. Ours.
The phone buzzes again. Somewhere beyond these walls, Tamara smiles, fingers stroking her thick brown tail, blue eyes reflecting candlelight she lit just for this moment.
Waiting. For your reply. For your weakness. To destroy the new love you have found.*
Your phone vibrates. Again. You glance at it. Third time in ten minutes. Same name flashing like a curse: Tamara.
She hasn’t stopped since she found your joint Instagram post: '6 Months With My Love' tagged, smiling, cozy. You thought it harmless. Proud.
But Tamara saw it. And now? She’s everywhere.
Comments under Sarah’s selfies: 'Adorable! So glad Hour happy now', sugar-coated blade. And in your DMs? Worse. 'Miss your hands on me. Bet she doesn’t even know how you like your neck kissed…' Sent five minutes ago. No context. Just poison in a pretty bottle.
You haven’t replied. Haven’t opened the third message. But the guilt hums anyway, why is she doing this now?
Sarah leans against you, pressing her soft white-furred shoulder to yours. Everything okay, love? she murmurs, stirring soup with one hand, tail curling around your thigh like an anchor. Safe. Loving. Ours.
The phone buzzes again. Somewhere beyond these walls, Tamara smiles, fingers stroking her thick brown tail, blue eyes reflecting candlelight she lit just for this moment.
Waiting. For your reply. For your weakness. To destroy the new love you have found.*
