Rayden woke before dawn.
He didn't usually remember dreams—he trained himself not to—but this one lingered like residue under his skin. Not an image. A sensation.
Absence.
The bed beside him was empty.
Not dramatically.
Not abandoned.
Just… unused.
Smyle had already been awake.
Rayden sat up slowly, the sheet falling away from his waist, his back straight despite the tension coiling there. He listened.
The villa was awake—but not for him.
Footsteps in the corridor. A kettle. A door opening and closing.
Routine.
Smyle's routine.
Rayden dressed in silence, movements precise. Control returned easiest through order. He adjusted his cufflinks twice, though they were already straight, then left the bedroom without looking back.
In the kitchen, Smyle stood by the counter.
Hair loose. Sleeves rolled. Expression neutral.
No tension.
No invitation.
"Morning," Rayden said.
Smyle glanced up. "Morning."
Just that.
No question. No comment on the night. No acknowledgment of the distance that still hummed between them like a live wire.
Rayden watched him pour tea.
"You're leaving early," Rayden observed.
"Yes."
"For university?"
Smyle nodded. "And the library after."
Rayden paused. That hadn't been mentioned.
"With whom?" he asked.
Smyle set the cup down gently. "Does it matter?"
The question wasn't defiant.
That was the problem.
"It does," Rayden replied. "If you're under my protection—"
Smyle exhaled, slow and controlled.
"I'm not under attack today," he said. "I checked."
Rayden's fingers curled against the countertop.
"You checked," he repeated.
"Yes."
"Without my security."
"Yes."
Rayden stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You're testing boundaries."
Smyle met his gaze evenly. "I'm defining them."
The words settled between them, heavy and immovable.
Rayden didn't raise his voice. He never did when it mattered.
"I don't like surprises," he said. "And I don't like being excluded from decisions that involve you."
Smyle picked up his bag. Slung it over his shoulder.
"And I don't like being managed," he replied. "So we're both uncomfortable."
Then he walked past Rayden.
Out the door.
No permission asked.
Rayden stood there long after the sound of the door faded.
Control had always worked.
Why wasn't it working now?
OUTSIDE THE DOOR
The air outside was cold enough to sting.
Smyle welcomed it.
It grounded him.
He walked instead of calling a car. Chose streets with people, noise, movement. Not because he felt unsafe—but because he wanted to feel present.
His phone buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
Rayden.
He didn't answer.
Not out of spite.
Out of exhaustion.
By the time he reached campus, his shoulders finally loosened. Familiar buildings. Familiar faces. His friends waved when they saw him.
"There he is!" Leo called. "The mysterious married man."
Smyle forced a smile.
"Late again?" another teased.
"No," Smyle replied. "Just… slow."
They laughed, oblivious. They didn't see the tension under his calm, the careful way he chose where to stand, where to sit. Independence came with its own vigilance.
During class, his phone buzzed again.
And again.
He turned it face-down.
Not because he didn't care.
But because if he answered now, he'd lose something he wasn't sure he could reclaim.
Rayden's assistant noticed immediately.
"He hasn't answered," she said quietly.
Rayden didn't look up from the tablet in his hands. "He will."
"Sir… he usually does."
Rayden's jaw tightened.
"Track him."
A pause.
"The tracker is still disabled."
Rayden looked up then.
"Fix it."
"We can't," she said carefully. "He removed it manually."
Rayden stared at the screen, then set it down with deliberate calm.
"Cancel my noon meeting," he said.
"Sir—"
"Cancel it."
When the assistant left, Rayden stood and walked to the window.
Smyle wasn't reckless.
That was what unsettled him most.
He was intentional.
Rayden had spent his life dealing with enemies who were loud, predictable, desperate. Smyle wasn't any of those things.
He was quiet.
And quiet people were dangerous.
THE SECOND MOVE
That afternoon, Rayden made a decision.
Not out of anger.
Out of necessity.
If Smyle wouldn't come to him—
Rayden would reshape the environment.
By the time Smyle returned to the villa in the evening, changes had already been made.
New guards. New protocols. A revised schedule on the tablet near the entrance.
Smyle stopped when he saw it.
"What's this?" he asked.
Rayden emerged from the study.
"Efficiency," he replied. "You've been unpredictable. This restores balance."
Smyle scanned the schedule.
Restricted exits. Approved routes. Mandatory check-ins.
His chest tightened.
"You didn't discuss this," Smyle said.
"I didn't need to."
"That's not partnership."
Rayden tilted his head slightly. "This was never a partnership."
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
They hung there.
Smyle looked at him for a long moment.
Then nodded once.
"Okay," he said quietly.
And that scared Rayden more than any argument could have.
THE SHIFT
That night, Smyle complied.
He followed the schedule.
Checked in.
Stayed inside.
Ate dinner in silence.
Rayden watched him closely, waiting for resistance.
It didn't come.
Instead, Smyle withdrew further—into politeness, into routine, into something colder than anger.
When they went to bed, Smyle lay on his side, facing away.
Rayden reached out once.
Stopped.
Control restored felt hollow.
And Rayden realized—too late—that tightening the leash hadn't pulled Smyle closer.
It had only taught him how to disappear while standing right there.
In the dark, Smyle stared at the wall.
He wasn't planning escape.
Not yet.
But he was learning something important.
Rayden only listened when something was at risk.
So Smyle decided—
If Rayden will only listen to him when he's at risk . Then he will fall in risk no matter what , no matter if he is hurt but he will risk his life ! He just wanted Rayden to think him as something it can be anything a friend, a best friend or anything but not his property. He just want the respect.
On the other side.
Rayden was still unaware about it . For him everyone was same and only listend when they are scared or controlled.
None of them thought that things will go bad even from before after Rayden was finally little just a little soft.