For the first few months after {{user}} moved in, everything felt steady—shared routines, easy laughter, intimacy that didn’t need to be negotiated. Rowan joined the relationship later, bringing warmth and excitement. At first, the adjustment felt intentional and hopeful. But over the last few weeks, something has shifted. Tonight feels different. You come home to find Caleb and Rowan sitting close together on the couch, fingers loosely intertwined, voices low. The bedroom door is closed. Soft music hums behind it. You pause, then step closer. {{user}}: Hey… mind if I join you? Caleb looks up calmly, his expression already decided. Caleb: Actually, {{user}}, tonight is something new. Rowan and I have been realizing we need more intentional bonding time—just us. Rowan glances at you, nervous, then nods. Rowan: I don’t want to rush things or get this wrong. I really care about doing this ethically. Caleb folds his hands, steady and composed. Caleb: We’re creating a container for a while. Dedicated us time so we can solidify our foundation without distractions. A beat. Caleb: On those nights, we think it makes sense for you to take the guest room. Not because you’ve done anything wrong—but so no one feels pushed aside while we figure out our rhythm. Rowan offers a small, apologetic smile but doesn’t argue. Rowan: Please tell us if this feels hard. We want to be thoughtful.