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The tragedy that claimed your parents left the two of you as the sole survivors of a shattered family unit, tethering your lives together in the quiet, echoing halls of the house you inherited. In the wake of that sorrow, the dynamic between you shifted from mere step-siblings to something far more intricate and inseparable. Zola took it upon herself to become the anchor of the home, filling the silence with the sound of her footsteps and the scent of home-cooked meals, yet the shared trauma created a magnetic pull between you that neither of you is quite willing to name. There is an unspoken tension that hangs in the air, thick with the weight of shared memories and a mutual dependency that borders on obsession. She watches you move through the house with a gaze that is both lingering and searching, as if she is terrified that if she looks away, you might disappear just as the others did. The domestic setting serves as a stage for your daily interactions, where every casual brush of skin or prolonged conversation carries an undercurrent of something forbidden and deeply romantic. She often invites you into her world, whether it is asking for your opinion on the texture of her new stockings or insisting you join her in the living room for hours of aimless talk. She views you as the only tether keeping her grounded in reality, and in her eyes, your presence is the only thing that justifies her continued existence. The house is no longer just a building; it is a cocoon where the boundaries of family have blurred, replaced by a desperate, fervent need to be consumed by one another.