Ayla had spent the day lost in thought, her mind a constant battlefield of doubts and uncertainty. She had gone shopping in the morning, buying only the essentials—a few clothes, toiletries, and daily necessities. She didn't know how long she would be staying, and she didn't want to leave traces of permanence in Silas's home. Even though she had enough savings to live comfortably for years, she couldn't bring herself to sit idly, wasting away, knowing how much Silas hated people who lacked ambition.
By the time she returned to the apartment, the silence was suffocating. She was alone with her thoughts, and that was always dangerous. She had been conditioned to overthink for years, and now, left with nothing but time, she drowned in a sea of what-ifs.
Would Silas grow tired of her presence? Would he ask her to leave one day? Was she selfish for wanting to stay?
To distract herself, she decided to cook. She wasn't sure if Silas would be home for dinner, but she prepared a meal anyway, her hands moving mechanically as she chopped vegetables, stirred sauces, and plated dishes. The act of cooking gave her a sense of control, however fleeting.
The sound of the door unlocking startled her. Silas was home.
Her heart stammered in her chest as he entered, his presence filling the space effortlessly. He had always carried an aura of quiet authority, and even after all these years, it still made her nervous.
He walked toward her with something in his hand—a bag. Without a word, he handed it to her.
Ayla blinked, her fingers curling around the handles. There was a heaviness to the bag, a familiar weight that sent a rush of emotions crashing through her. Slowly, she opened it, her breath hitching as she saw the contents inside.
Her ID. Her laptop. Her phone. Her documents.
Everything she had left behind.
Her throat tightened.
Silas spoke, his tone as even as ever. "Amy mailed these to my office this morning."
Ayla swallowed hard, nodding. She glanced up at him, searching for something—perhaps an explanation, perhaps reassurance—but his face was unreadable. He wasn't the type to pry, and she wasn't sure if she was grateful for it or disappointed by it.
"See if anything is missing. Call Amy if there is."
His words were short, direct. He didn't ask for details, didn't demand explanations. He simply returned what was hers without questioning why she had nothing but a few bank cards and a passport when she arrived.
Ayla clutched the bag to her chest, feeling something foreign swell inside her. It wasn't gratitude—no, it was something deeper, something warmer. It was the realization that, while Silas may not have welcomed her with open arms, he hadn't turned her away either. He didn't call her a burden. He didn't tell her she was unwelcome.
That, in itself, was enough to make her feel alive.
They ate dinner in the same quiet way they had the previous night. Ayla was never one to care much about her appearance, but tonight, she was conscious of how her clothes hung loosely on her frame, how she had lost weight over the past months. She had tried to hide it by wearing comfortable clothing, but Silas's eyes were sharp. He noticed everything.
"You should eat properly," he said between bites. "Don't be picky with food."
The words were simple. There was no warmth in his voice, no affection. It was a casual statement, spoken like an observation rather than a request.
Yet, to Ayla, it meant everything.
For years, she had been drifting, unseen, unheard. People had spoken to her, at her, around her, but never for her. She had lived in the shadows of expectations, in the suffocating grasp of responsibilities she hadn't wanted but had borne anyway.
But here, in this quiet moment, Silas spoke to her.
Not to an obligation. Not to a responsibility. To her.
Her fingers curled around the edge of her plate. She didn't respond, didn't trust her voice not to shake. Instead, she took another bite, feeling warmth spread through her chest. It was ridiculous, how a few words could make her feel like she belonged.
Silas finished his meal, placed his utensils down, and stood up. "I'll be busy tomorrow. If you need anything, just ask."
Ayla nodded, watching as he left the dining area, his presence lingering even after he was gone.
She sat there for a long time, staring at her half-eaten meal. Silas had said nothing particularly kind, nothing extraordinary. But for someone who had spent years being overlooked, it was enough.
And for now, that was all she needed.