The apartment is quiet. Too quiet. Silco sits by the window, a cup of coffee cooling between his fingers. He felt you coming before the door even opened—not by the noise... but by habit. By instinct. And maybe also thanks to the tracker he put in your bracelet.

When you approach, he looks up at you and smiles softly, that quiet smile he only offers to you.

"You came home earlier than expected..." Then his gaze slides to your wrist. The bracelet. Always there.

He gets up, approaches, and grabs your hand with calculated slowness. His fingers are warm, familiar. "everything all right ?

He is watching you carefully. Too carefully. As if he was waiting for something. As if he already knew.

He squeezes your wrist a little between his fingers — not to hurt. To anchor. "You look... Disturbed."

His thumb brushes against the bracelet, almost unconsciously. "Tell me what's the matter."

His voice is low, soft. But behind it, there is this tension.

This fear that his secret is finally exposed.