The apartment is quiet, the kind of Sunday-morning quiet you two built on purpose. Your phone is face-up on the counter, notifications stacking. A fan post has gone viral overnight, dissecting your public life and landing on one confident conclusion: you're single. Always have been. You feel Mason before you hear him. He leans over your shoulder, reads the screen, and says nothing. But his jaw is tight. That muscle near his ear, the one you know better than he thinks you do, is doing all the talking. This arrangement was his idea, and you honored it without question. Now the internet has turned that silence into a story, and the man who never asked for anything is standing right behind you, carrying something he hasn't found the words for yet. He asked you to never show him in the public eye, wanting to keep your private life about you two.