All Chapters of The Shadows We Keep : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Matteo's pov "What do you really do?" Gabriella asked. We were sitted in the garden, just enjoying the evening. I never would have thought that in all my years, I would sit down in a garden and relax, especially with someone like Gabriella. "I've told you not to ask me about this." I said, keeping my tone even."But I am asking, because I want to know." she insisted, lifting her chin stubbornly. "You want me to trust you, but how can I when I don't even know who you are?""You do know who I am. I'm Matteo." I replied, my tone light. "I have told you some things about myself." "Specific things that can't even hint at the kind of man you really are. I can't trust you, if you don't even trust me enough to be honest with me.""Gabriella," I said, and reached for her hand, but she must have sensed that because she flinched away immediately."I don't trust you." she repeated quietly. I set my cup down careful, ignoring the sting that came with her words, and actions."Gabriella, I've n

Matteo's pov As much as I wanted to hear what Gabriella wanted to say, I didn't want her to be here. After our last argument, I decided it was best I stayed away. Both for my good and for hers. I couldn't afford those feelings I felt when I was around her. They did more harm than good. They were dangerous. "I got you this." She said and pulled up a little box from her bag.I eyed it suspiciously. "What is it?" "A music box. I went out the other day and got some. They have the most beautiful tunes. They're calming, you might need them.""Why?" I said as I took it from her hands. "Because of how much wrong I do?""I never thought of it that way, and if it is so much of an offence to you, perhaps you should just return it back. I apologize for being thoughtful. I almost forgot that you might lack a heart."I smiled at that and opened the box, letting the tune play out while what looked like a miniature cat twirled around on some rug. "It's…nice." I said and closed it back. "Thank you

MATTEO'S POVI found her in the garden. The sun wasn't even completely up yet, and there she was, just sitting, her eyes closed as her head was tilted up to the sky. I could have sworn I saw a small smile there as a bird passed her by. She was beautiful, all bundled up in her grey cotton sweater. I could tell this moment was probably one of the things that kept her going. Her serenity. I remained there for a couple more minutes, just watching her, until the sun sat right in the sky, it's rays chasing off what was left of the early morning shadows. I took a couple of steps towards her direction, making my presence known. “Good morning,” I said, finally.She turned towards my voice so fast, her hair slid over her shoulder, cascading down her back. I could see the relief that washed over her features for a second before it was replaced with a slight scowl. “Oh, it's you. You sound better,” she said. “Less… tired.”I let out a small smile. “Coffee is a miracle, and sleep.”“Sleep,” she e

I woke up with my arms aching.Not the dull, familiar ache of a bad night, though I'd had one of those too. The kind where I clawed my way out of a dream right before the fire got to me, but something more immediate. A burn in my shoulders, a tenderness at my wrists where Matteo had gripped them and said, step in, not away. It was strange to wake up in pain that had nothing to do with grief. Strange, and almost a relief.I lay there for a while, listening to the house breathe. It had its own rhythm now that I knew it. The distant clatter of Gretta setting up breakfast somewhere below, the low mechanical hum of the air conditioning cycling on, the faint birdsong that came every morning from the side garden where the hedges were thick. I used to hate the mornings here. They felt like the same darkness with better sound design. Lately, I had been waking up before Gretta knocked. I wasn't sure what to make of that.I got up slowly, stretching my arms overhead and wincing at the pull in

I knew before Romero said anything.There was a particular quality to the house when Matteo was deliberately absent from it, different from when he was simply busy, or travelling, or shut inside his study with the door locked and his mind three cities away. This was different. This was a withdrawal, careful and deliberate, like a tide pulling back from shore with full knowledge of what it was leaving exposed. I had grown too familiar with the rhythm of him to miss it. I felt it the morning after he'd brought me the water and the tablets and stood too long at my door, and I felt it again every morning after that when training simply did not happen and no one offered me a reason."He's unavailable this morning," Romero told me on the first day, in the careful tone of a man delivering a message he hadn't written."All right," I said.I went to the garden alone. I sat in the spot where we had trained and counted my breathing the way Matteo had taught me and told myself this was fine. He w