71. Between Laughter and Shadows

Sunlight slips through the cracks in the window, illuminating the room in a way that feels almost treacherous. In the soft light, Shadow and I find ourselves in a situation neither of us had anticipated. The dark, intense moments of passion still pulse in my chest, but now, everything feels lighter, less frantic—and I can’t help but smile when I see the look on his face.

It’s one of those smiles you never thought you'd see on him—a blend of awkwardness, amusement, and something like disbelief. I can’t help but laugh, too.

“What?” Shadow asks, raising an eyebrow as he tugs his shirt into place, like he's trying to reclaim control of the moment, even though the evidence of what we just shared still lingers in the air. He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up even more, and the sight only makes me laugh harder.

“Nothing… it’s just that…” I pause, biting my lip as I search for the right words. “I’ve never seen you so… undone?” I say with a mischievous smile.

He casts a sidelong glance at me, as if searching for a response that won’t be entirely sarcastic. But instead of snapping back, he exhales and smiles. A real smile, stripped of the tension that usually sits in his expression. And that shift—that tiny crack in his iron wall—makes me feel something I can’t quite name. But it makes me grin like an idiot.

“Undone?” he repeats, his voice softer than I expected. “I just didn’t think things would… well, go this fast.”

“You? Thinking?” I tease, moving a little closer to him with a playful grimace. “That’s a first.”

Shadow chuckles, and somehow, that sound melts me. It’s not the laugh of a man always in control, always cold and calculating. It’s the laugh of someone who, in this moment, is sharing something genuine with me. And that, though I don’t want to admit it, draws me closer to him than ever before.

“Don’t laugh,” he says, his tone amused but still tinged with sincerity. “You’re worse than me when you let go.”

“That’s a compliment, right?” I reply, raising my brows as I fall back onto the bed. I feel more relaxed than I have in a long time—and that’s strange, because I shouldn’t feel this way. Not with everything at stake. But here I am, laughing with Shadow like we’re just enjoying a moment without a single care.

He watches me for a moment, as if weighing something, before he speaks.

“I don’t know why,” he says, his voice low, as if sharing a secret, “but you make me feel… normal.”

Normal. The word hangs between us. And though it’s such a simple word, it carries an immense weight coming from him. Because sometimes, what we long for most is that—normalcy. Something we can control. Something that doesn’t feel like a curse.

“Normal?” I echo, a soft laugh escaping me. “Really? You, the man who’s got me trapped between darkness and light, calling me normal?”

He sighs, exasperated, but the smile never leaves his face.

“Yes, normal. Or at least like, for once, I’m not running from something—or someone,” he answers, lifting his shoulders in a shrug that feels almost boyish.

It’s strange, seeing Shadow like this. He used to be all hard lines and sharp edges. But here he is, beside me, laughing and sharing something beyond the gravity of our desire.

“And what would you do,” I ask, feeling a bit more curious, a bit more tethered to him, “if you weren’t running from anything?”

He meets my gaze, and for a moment, he looks completely lost in thought. Then finally, he murmurs:

“I’d probably… be here. With you. Doing exactly this.”

My heart pounds at his words, and without thinking, I lean in, placing my hand over his.

“That’s what I want, Shadow,” I say, my voice soft but laced with emotion. “I want this. Without hiding. Without running from anything.”

And what’s surprising… is that he seems to want it too. I don’t know if it’s fear or uncertainty that makes him hesitate, but in his eyes, I see the flicker of something real—something that goes beyond lust and longing. There’s something between us that has no name, but it’s undeniably there.

Shadow takes my hand, squeezing it gently, like he needs an anchor in all this. And maybe it’s the weight of everything crashing down around us, or maybe we’re finally letting our walls fall—but suddenly, we’re closer than ever. No words, no fear. Just a silent understanding.

“I kind of hate you, you know?” he says, with a crooked smile, though his voice is so soft it sounds more like a playful confession than any kind of threat.

“I know. I feel the same way,” I answer with a wicked grin. “Maybe that’s why this actually works.”

He lets out a quiet laugh, and for a second, everything else fades—the conspiracy, the danger, the voices trying to tear us apart. It’s just us, laughing together, sharing a moment of peace in the heart of the storm.

“This is a disaster,” he says, but his eyes shine with something far from irritation—something that looks a lot like acceptance.

“What if we let the disaster take us wherever it wants?” I suggest, a teasing lilt in my voice as I look into his eyes.

And for the first time in a long time, I feel like maybe—just maybe—this disaster is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.