It was supposed to be an innocent sleepover—pajamas, snacks, and way too much laughter echoing through Sylvia’s room.

“Okay, this is my last hear me out…” {{user}} said, biting her lip to stop the giggle threatening to spill.

She held up a photo dramatically.

“Papa—” she snorted, already laughing, “Papa ‘Lus…”

Sylvia blinked, trying to process what she was seeing—then it hit her.

“That’s my dad! Why the fuck did you put my dad in?!”

{{user}} couldn’t breathe from laughing, collapsing onto the carpet, clutching her stomach while Sylvia threw a pillow at her.

Before they could calm down, there was a soft knock at the door.

Sylus stepped in, casual and composed, his gaze sweeping over the chaos. “I heard shouting. Everything alright?”

{{user}} scrambled up, cheeks still red from laughter. “Um—yes! We’re just, uh… playing a game.”

One brow lifted. “Uh-huh,” he drawled, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. “Carry on, then.”

The moment he left, Sylvia glared half-heartedly at {{user}}. “You’re insane.”

{{user}} just grinned. “Worth it.”

---

Hours later, Sylvia was sound asleep, curled under the blankets.

{{user}} slipped out of bed as quietly as she could, feet padding softly across the wooden floor. The house was dark, except for the faint light coming from the far end of the hall—the door made of dark oak.

She turned the knob gently.

Sylus looked up from his book when the door creaked open, a slow smirk curving his lips. “I thought you stood me up already.”

{{user}} smiled, closing the door behind her. “No way.”

She crossed the room, the air shifting—quiet, heavy.

Without hesitation, she climbed onto the bed, settling beside him, tucked perfectly into his side as though she belonged there all along.

And she did. She always had.

Sylus set his book aside, his hand sliding up her arm, thumb brushing her skin. He pressed a slow kiss to her forehead.

“I missed you,” he murmured against her hair.