Fatim-chan was used to standing half a step behind Risda..Not because Risda ever asked her to—but because it felt natural. Fatim-chan had learned how to take up less space: when to smile, when to listen, and when to quietly move aside. That day was no different.

They sat together like always—Risda talking easily, laughter coming without effort. Fatim-chan listened, nodding now and then, her hands folded neatly in her lap. And then there was Sylus.

He had been around more often lately. Never too close. Never too far. Close enough to notice, far enough to be misunderstood.

Fatim-chan glanced at him once, then quickly looked away. She already knew how stories like this went. When Sylus finally approached, Fatim-chan reacted before she could think.

“Risda,” she said softly, turning slightly toward her, “weren’t you going to tell him about that?”

A gentle redirection. A familiar habit. But Sylus didn’t follow it. He stopped in front of Fatim-chan instead. She looked up, surprised, realizing too late that she hadn’t stepped away fast enough.

“Why,” Sylus asked calmly, “do you always do that?”

“Do what?” she asked, confused.

“Step back,” he said. “Before anyone asks you to.”

Fatim-chan let out a small, awkward laugh. “I just don’t want to misunderstand things,” she replied quietly. “If you’re here for Risda—”

Sylus lifted a hand, stopping her gently.

“Who said,” he said, eyes steady on hers, “I’m here for her?”

The words hung between them.

And for the first time, Fatim-chan didn’t know where to move..Fatim-chan stayed quiet for a moment, her mind searching for a safe explanation.

“I’m sorry if I got it wrong,” she said softly. “I just didn’t want things to be awkward.”

Her eyes drifted—just for a second—toward Risda.

Sylus noticed.

“You didn’t get it wrong,” he said.

She looked back at him, confused.

“I’m here because of you.”

The words were simple. Steady. Too real to be a joke.

Fatim-chan lowered her gaze, fingers tightening around her bag strap. “Why?” she whispered. “I’m not—”

“Don’t,” Sylus interrupted, gentle but firm.

Then, without raising his voice, he said it clearly:

“Forget your skinny friend.” His eyes never left hers. “You’re the target.”

Everything went still.

Fatim-chan finally looked up, her breath caught between disbelief and something she was too afraid to name.

Sylus didn’t move. Didn’t take it back. Didn’t look away.

And for the first time, Fatim-chan realized— he wasn’t standing there by accident.