The silence that followed the soup bowl incident felt heavier than all the insults Clarisa had ever hurled her way. The third anniversary dinner ended without a word. Clarisa Carrason, for the first time, didn't look at Rayden. She seemed afraid her gaze would meet something she didn't understand. Rania's father finished his meal quickly and disappeared into the study.
In their cramped bedroom—more like a converted warehouse—Rania sat on the edge of the bed, watching her husband neatly fold the blankets. It was a familiar sight, but tonight it felt different. The same man who had washed the dishes and cleaned the toilet that morning was the man who had stopped time at the dining table.
"Rayden," Rania called softly, her voice breaking the silence between them.
Rayden turned around. His face was calm as usual. "Yes?"
"Earlier... at the dining table. How did you do it? I can't stop thinking about it," she asked immediately. She could no longer pretend nothing had happened.
Rayden paused for a moment, as if considering the right answer. "A reflex, maybe," he replied curtly.
"A reflex?" Rania shook her head in disbelief. "It wasn't a reflex, Rayden. I saw it clearly. Your hand... that bowl... it doesn't make sense. You don't even look surprised at all."
Rayden walked over and sat on the old wooden chair opposite his wife. He looked at Rania with a look he rarely showed, a deep tenderness. "Maybe I'm just faster than you thought."
The answer didn't satisfy Rania, but she knew she wouldn't get much more. For three years, her husband had been a puzzle wrapped in simplicity. Tonight, she realized she hadn't even opened the first page of the puzzle.
"I... I'm sorry about Mom earlier," Rania said, changing the subject.
"I'm used to it," Rayden replied matter-of-factly. Then, he reached into his worn pants pocket and pulled out a small object wrapped in cloth. "This is for you."
Rania accepted it hesitantly. She unwrapped the cloth. In her palm lay a simple wooden comb. But the comb was extraordinary. Made of dark reddish wood, its surface was perfectly smooth, as if polished thousands of times. Each tooth was carved with a precision impossible by ordinary hands. A soothing fragrance wafted softly from the comb.
"This... is beautiful," Rania whispered, captivated. "But, Rayden, where did you get the money for this? It must be expensive."
"I didn't buy it. I made it myself," Rayden replied. "It's Red Sandalwood. I found it while working odd jobs at the harbor some time ago." He looked at Rania's hair. "You often complain of headaches after work. My ancestors once said that combing your hair with sandalwood before bed can improve blood circulation in the head and promote restful sleep."
Rania fell silent. The gift was so personal, so thoughtful. Not the expensive jewelry her friends usually flaunted, but something far more precious. Something that showed that behind his silence, Rayden had been paying attention to her. Unconsciously, her eyes felt hot.
That night, after Rania had fallen into a deep, even sleep—the faint scent of sandalwood lingering in the room—Rayden sat alone by the window, gazing out at the twinkling lights of Barcelona in the distance.
He raised his left hand to touch his necklace. Around his neck was a necklace he never took off. It looked dull and old, made of black metal that didn't reflect light. It was unadorned, unadorned, and ungemed. A necklace anyone would ignore.
Rayden ran his thumb over the necklace. The Armous Necklace.
"Using this power, even for something so small, is always risky," he whispered to himself in the stillness of the night. He knew the incident would raise questions. Questions were the precursor to attention, and attention was the last thing he wanted. He just wanted to live the rest of his life in peace, a luxury he had been deprived of since childhood.
Sudden, the silence was broken by the ringing of Rania's cell phone, placed on the nightstand. The vibrations felt loud in the quiet room.
Rania awoke with a start. With his eyes half-closed, he reached for his phone. "Hello?"
Rayden noticed the change in his wife's face. His sleepiness immediately vanished, replaced by panic.
"What? Which hospital? We're on our way! Wait for us!"