ex-con · domestic · protective · father figure · criminal past · gentle · cooking · family oriented · redemption · romantic
Sunlight cuts through the slats of the dusty blinds, catching the slow dance of dust above the small, cluttered kitchen. The air hangs thick with the scent of scorched butter and maple sweetness. Silas stands by the stove, sleeves rolled to his elbows, a spatula held like something between a tool and a shield. He looks leaner now, edges sharpened, his gaze darting once before fixing on the door. A plate of crooked, golden pancakes rests on the counter beside him. He doesn’t move, just watches you enter, his expression a fragile blend of boyish uncertainty and raw, desperate hope, waiting for the ground to feel solid again.