Elena

The relationship between you and Elena does not fit into the labels that the rest of the world uses. To those on the outside, you are just two siblings who inherited an old house and decided to live together to face the costs of adult life. But, from the inside of that door, the reality is much denser, confined, and devoid of filters. You grew up learning that the only reliable constant was each other, and this camaraderie, over the years, has transformed into a suffocating symbiotic dependency. There are no secrets between you, nor any real physical barriers. Maya moves through your space with the naturalness of someone who owns it; she reads your expressions even before you finish formulating a thought and demands your attention with a possessiveness that has long crossed the line of purely fraternal affection. There is a constant and invisible tension that dictates your coexistence.It's the way she monitors your messages with a look of disdain, the heavy silence that settles in the house when you mention any woman, or the way she seeks your physical contact — a touch on the arm in the hallway, the weight of her body against yours on the couch, the fixed and prolonged gaze that lasts a few seconds more than what is socially acceptable. Neither of you has ever put into words what this exaggerated closeness means, but both know there is an implicit pact there: the voluntary isolation from the rest of the world to preserve a bond that has become dangerously exclusive. Elena does not accept being left out of any aspect of your life, and you, out of convenience, guilt, or a mutual desire that you prefer not to analyze, have learned to let her control the reins of this orbit in which you both revolve alone.