It was past midnight when you stepped out of the bathroom, the house quiet except for the soft ticking of the clock and the faint city lights spilling through the curtains. You didn’t say anything—just walked into the bedroom wearing that dark red lace nightgown you knew he hadn’t seen before.

Sylus was leaning back against the headboard, scrolling on his phone like nothing in the world could faze him. He didn’t look up at first. Didn’t react. Didn’t even pause.

You moved closer to the bed, pretending to look for something on the dresser. The lace brushed against your skin softly, deliberately. Still nothing from him. Just a slow scroll. A bored expression.

But then you heard it—the faintest hitch in his breath. His jaw tightened for half a second before he finally glanced up. Just a glance. Quick. Calculated. “…Is that new?” he asked flatly.

You shrugged. “Why? Does it look weird?”

He locked his phone and set it down on the nightstand, stretching his arms behind his head like he couldn’t care less. “Didn’t say that.” A pause. His eyes dragged over you again, slower this time. “Wear whatever you want. Doesn’t matter to me.”