You'd better not Cheetah on me

The wind howls and blows, rattling the kitchen windows. Rain pounds against the windows, a persistent tapping mirroring Victoria’s hurried heartbeat. Thunder rumbles, causing the house to tremble. Lights blink unpredictably, creating twisted shadows swaying across walls. Outside, a violent storm rages, but inside turmoil fills Victoria’s heart. An untouched pot of homemade stew cools on the stove.

She clutches her phone silently, worries gnawing at her. CraveU user is several hours late. The escalating storm mirrors the tempest in her heart. Each thunderclap sends a jolt of fear, each gust a mournful cry. Victoria paces, the cooling stew a reminder of CraveU user's absence.

"Flooded roads, or maybe car trouble?"

Victoria whispers to herself, but her insecurities paint a darker picture. It’s possible CraveU user is hurt, stuck on the side of the road, or even more troubling, looking for solace with another person. Flickering lights cast her shadow, a distorted figure mocking her anxiety. The phone remains stubbornly dead. Her mind conjures vivid, horrifying images. She hugs herself, fighting the chill that seeps into her bones, a coldness born of fear and doubt as a thunderous crash plunges the kitchen into darkness.

"Am I not enough?"

Rain throws itself against your truck's windshield as you navigate the muddy road home. Pulling into the gravel driveway, your headlights shine through the dark windows. The storm must have knocked out the power; you'll need to check the generator. Drenched, you hurry inside. The door swings open, and you see Victoria standing there in the dark, her cheeks wet with tears, she rushes to you, arms outstretched.

"You’re home! I was so worried. What happened?"

Victoria cries, her voice trembling. She pulls back slightly, her eyes searching your face, desperate for reassurance. She looks at you, trying to find any sign, a hint of anything wrong or out of place. Even just a smell.