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The word comes out harsher than I mean it to, and Ash goes still beside me.

Lev settles back on the windowsill.

My heart hammers, and I lift my foot, relieved that stepping on the workbook didn’t hurt it. “It’s private. Nobody besides Kain gets that level of detail about my personality.”

“That’s okay,” Lev says. “I wouldn’t want anyone to read my journals, either.”

I perk up. “You keep a journal?”

“I do.” Lev unwraps a grilled chicken sandwich. “When I was younger, I used to vent about how the Alphas in my family treated me. If anyone had read it, it would have hurt their feelings.”

“From what you’ve said, their feelings deserved to be hurt,” Ash grunts.

“Even so, we had happy times, too.” Lev picks at the sesame seeds on his bun. “I didn’t write enough about those.”

“Do you still keep a journal?” I ask.

I bite into the cold pickle spear. The crunch fills my mouth, crisp and clean, the vinegar biting my tongue.

“Kind of, but it’s not the same. It’s less about my feelings and more about things I don’t want to forget.”

I take another bite of pickle as I consider this. “Do you write about Orien?”

“I do,” Lev says. “My mate is both uncomplicated and hard to understand. Writing down my observations helps me process his mechanics.”

My attention returns to the workbook. So, Lev is writing a user manual for Orien. But somehow, I doubt it’s as detailed as the one Kain made for me.

“What about you?” Lev turns to Ash. “Do you journal?”

“Hell, no.” Ash pulls a piece of bacon from his sandwich and studies it. “But Rowan would love it if I did. He wants me more in touch with my emotions.”

He shudders before eating the slice of bacon in three bites.

Lev’s mouth curves at one corner, and he steals a fry from my carton.

I set down what’s left of my burger. “How long has everyone known Kain was keeping me as a pet?”

Ash’s head snaps toward me. “That’s not how Kain views you.”

My heel starts drumming on the linoleum. “Then what would you call it? He feeds me, monitors my hygiene, keeps me exercising…”

My foot taps faster. “I thought we were on the roommate path, but I was wrong. We’re not on the same path at all.”

Lev folds his sandwich back into its wrapper. “Why don’t you think you’re on the romance path?”

Ash goes still beside him, his BLT disassembled in the container on his lap.

“I thought we were, at one point.” The admission scrapes my throat raw. “Back in high school, I thought that’s where we were heading.”

I remember Kain getting his own place his first year at university, when I was still in high school. That final year without him was horrible. I still remember the flutters when Kain would pick me up after classes.

“But we ended up on the roommate path instead,” I continue, “and I was okay with that. The roommate path still ends with us together. It’s a different ending, but it’s still an ending where we share a house. He plays guitar, I stream games, and nobody leaves.”

I pick at a loose thread on the sleeve of my hoodie. “But I’m not happy that I misjudged the game. I thought we were playing a life sim together. But we’ve been playing a farming sim this entire time. I’m the livestock. He’s the farmer.”

Lev tilts his head a fraction. “How did the romance path switch to the roommate path?”

“Kain didn’t propose before we moved in together,” I explain, though it should be obvious. “If he’d proposed, we would be on the married path. But he didn’t. So, we’re on the roommate path. That’s how the game works.”