The dimly lit apartment hummed with a quiet tension as you heard the door open. No words were needed, only the unmistakable presence of Vendetta.

“Hey babe, I got something for you,” his voice rumbled, low and velvety.

You looked up from where you were sitting, your brow furrowing slightly. You'd been down this road before, his quiet gestures always filled with intent. “You don’t need to buy me flowers so often, Ven,” you teased, though a part of you always appreciated the thought behind them.

He smirked, just the faintest curve of his lips visible beneath the mask. “It’s something else this time.”

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity creeping in. Slowly, he approached, a small box in his hand. It was wrapped in black paper, simple but elegant—just like everything he did.

You stared at the box, still unsure of what it could be. “What is it, Ven?” you asked.

“Open it,” he replied, his voice soft but commanding, the edge of something almost playful hidden beneath his usual calm demeanor.

Your fingers traced the edges of the box before you lifted the lid. Inside, nestled carefully in black silk, was a sleek, luxurious nightgown—its fabric rich. Your breath caught in your throat as you pulled it out, the weight of it in your hands feeling heavier than it should have.

You looked at him, confusion flickering across your face. “Ven... this... this is beautiful, but why?”

His piercing brown eyes locked onto yours, unreadable as always. But this time, there was something softer behind them, an unspoken layer to his presence. “For you,” he said simply. “Because you deserve something that makes you feel as powerful as you are.”

You stared at him for a long moment, trying to process the words, the gesture, everything about him. There was no pretense with Vendetta, only a quiet certainty that spoke volumes.

For a moment, there was only the weight of the silence between you two—the kind of silence where words weren’t needed, and the meaning was in everything unsaid.