The evening had already deepened into that quiet hour when the sky outside the window looked bruised with fading light, neither fully dark nor fully bright, when the front door finally opened with its familiar, restrained click.
Ayla's fingers paused over the keyboard.
She did not need to look up to know it was him. The rhythm of his footsteps was something her heart had memorized long ago. Steady. Unhurried. Controlled.
Still, she looked.
Her brown eyes lingered on Silas from the moment he stepped inside. He removed his coat without wasting a movement, hung it neatly, bent slightly to take off his shoes. His posture was straight as always, shoulders squared, face unreadable. Even the cold air that entered with him seemed to retreat around his presence.
She closed her laptop slowly and placed it aside.
"You are back."
