Theon waited.
He didn't speak while Mia ate. Didn't glance at his watch. Didn't interrupt her halfway through a bite the way people sometimes did when they wanted to remind you that time was theirs, not yours.
He simply waited.
The silence was not heavy, but it was deliberate. The kind that made Mia aware of every small sound — the scrape of cutlery against porcelain, the faint clink of a spoon set down too carefully, the distant hum of the house waking around them.
She kept her eyes on the plate.
The food was good. She hated that it was. Warm, balanced, made with the kind of attention that suggested routine rather than occasion. It didn't feel like a test, and that unsettled her more than if it had.
Across from her, Theon sat still. He didn't eat much. Took small bites, methodical, as if the act itself was secondary to something else entirely.
Only when Mia pushed her plate away did he speak.
"Did you volunteer to come here," he asked, "or were you forced?"
The question landed without warning.
She looked up, startled. "What?"
"I'm asking whether you agreed," he said calmly, "or whether someone made the decision for you."
The wording was precise. Not are you okay with this. Not do you want to be here. He hadn't asked questions with answers he already knew.
Mia hesitated. Her fingers curled into the fabric of her sleeves.
"No one would want this," she said.
"I know," Theon replied. "That's not the question."
There was no impatience in his voice. No push. He waited again, the same way he had waited for her to finish eating.
She swallowed. "I agreed," she said finally. "It was… my duty."
Something unreadable crossed his face. Not relief. Not satisfaction. Just acknowledgment.
"Then we'll proceed on that basis," he said.
Proceed.
The word felt clinical. Final. Like a line had been drawn that couldn't be erased.
He folded his hands on the table.
"For now," he continued, "you won't be going outside."
Mia stiffened immediately.
"It isn't safe," he added, tone unchanged. "If you need anything, you inform the staff. They'll arrange it."
There it is, she thought.
The control.
She nodded, jaw tight.
"Your phone use will be limited," he went on. "No unapproved contact. No location sharing. This isn't a punishment. It's a precaution."
Every word felt like a door closing.
"And before you ask," he said, anticipating her expression, "this is temporary."
Temporary, to him, sounded permanent to her.
He shifted the conversation without pause.
"You're enrolled in college."
Her head snapped up. "How do you—"
"You can continue," he said.
That stopped her cold.
"What?"
"You'll attend your lectures as scheduled," he repeated. "Transportation will be arranged."
A dozen questions collided in her mind. Hope fought suspicion.
"But," he added, and there it was, "you'll go straight from campus to home. No lingering. No social outings. No unnecessary exposure."
The hope collapsed in on itself.
"So I'm allowed to study," she said slowly, "but not live."
Theon met her gaze. "You're allowed to be safe."
To him, it was a distinction that mattered.
To her, it was a justification.
She didn't see the calculations running behind his eyes — the routes, the timing, the risks multiplied by variables she didn't know existed. She didn't see the effort it would take to make this possible at all.
She saw only conditions.
"You know how this sounds," she said.
"I know how it feels," he corrected.
That surprised her.
Before she could respond, he moved on again.
"Do you like books?"
The abrupt shift caught her off guard.
"What?"
"Books," he repeated. Flat. Neutral. "Do you read?"
"Yes," she said cautiously. "Why?"
"There's a library," he said. "You can use it whenever you want."
That was it.
No warning. No catch. No lecture about supervision or limits.
She stared at him, suspicious. "Just… like that?"
"Yes."
She searched his face for irony. Found none.
Silence returned, heavier this time.
Mia cleared her throat. "Can I ask for something?"
He didn't hesitate. "Ask."
The permission felt dangerous. Like stepping onto thin ice.
She chose her words carefully. "I… I usually have tea with breakfast. I miss it."
For the first time, Theon paused.
Just a second. Enough for her to notice.
Then he said, "You can go to the kitchen and make whatever you want. As long as you don't interfere with the staff."
That wasn't what she expected.
"You mean… myself?"
"Yes."
No condescension. No warning. Just allowance.
Encouraged — or maybe emboldened — she pressed further.
"Could I… have a kettle in my room?"
He studied her then, properly this time. Not assessing her worth. Assessing risk.
"Have you used one before?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Recently?"
"Yes."
"Safely?"
"Yes."
Another pause.
"Then that's fine," he said. "Inform the staff. They'll arrange it."
Relief washed over her, immediately followed by guilt — not for asking, but for feeling like she had won something.
"Thank you," she said automatically.
He looked at her for a long moment.
"You don't need to thank me for necessities," he said.
"It's a habit," she replied quickly. "I say thank you a lot."
"I noticed," he said.
There was no warmth in the statement. No criticism either. Just observation.
They sat there for a moment longer, the space between them filled with things neither of them named.
Mia thought she understood him.
She thought the books were a lure.
The permissions, calculated generosity.
The restrictions, the real truth beneath it all.
She didn't see a man quietly lowering barriers wherever he could afford to.
She saw a man maintaining control by degrees.
And Theon, watching her fold back into herself despite everything he had just offered, told himself the same thing he had told himself since she arrived:
She's overwhelmed.
It will get better.
He stood first.
"You'll be escorted to campus starting tomorrow," he said. "Rest today."
"Yes, sir," she replied.
He didn't correct her.
He simply nodded and walked away, already moving on to the next responsibility, unaware that the distance between them had just widened — not because of what he refused her…
…but because she never once thought to wonder what it cost him to say yes..