Shadowbound

Chapter 3

The living room felt too quiet once the last box had been pushed against the wall. Shadows stretched across the floor, long and soft, shaped by the single lamp beside the sofa. Conrad stood in the dimness with his hands tucked into his pockets, like he was trying to anchor himself to something he couldn't name.

I stood there too, hugging my elbows, suddenly unsure of what to do with my hands… my voice… my heart.

He looked at me then — really looked — his hazel eyes tracing over the exhaustion I couldn’t hide no matter how still I tried to be. Hey,” he said softly, his voice serious now. “Are you really going to be okay all by yourself, D bear?”

I hesitated, my throat tight. “I’ll… I’ll try. I have to move on from everything that happened. I guess I can manage to survive alone.”

His hazel eyes softened, but I could see the storm of emotions behind them.

“Adi,” he said softly, “come here.”

I didn’t walk to him. I floated.

When I stopped in front of him, he reached up, brushing his fingers gently along my cheek. His touch was careful, almost reverent. As if I were something breakable he’d been terrified of losing.

“You look so tired,” he whispered. “Not just your eyes… your whole soul looks tired.”

His words cracked something inside me. Warm tears pooled at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them back.

“I’m trying,” I said, my voice barely above a breath. “I’m trying so hard to hold myself together.”

He let out a shaky exhale, like he’d been holding his breath since the moment we left Mansfield.

“You don’t have to hold yourself together with me,” he murmured. “You never had to.”

And then he pulled me into him.

His arms wrapped around me with the kind of tenderness that felt like a memory and a promise wrapped into one. My forehead rested against his chest, and for a moment, my heartbeat fell in line with his.

“Conrad…” My voice was muffled against his shirt. “What if I can’t do this? What if I’m not strong enough to start over? What if I messed up?”

His hand slipped to the back of my head, his fingers threading through my hair.

“You survived the worst thing a human heart can survive,” he said quietly. “Starting over? Adi… that’s the easy part. Because you’re doing that with the parts of you that are still brave.”

A sob caught in my throat — the kind that had no shape, no warning.

He felt it. He always did.

He held me tighter. “Let it out,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”

I don’t know how long we stayed like that. Long enough for my breathing to settle against him. Long enough for the world outside the walls to fade.

When I finally looked up at him, his eyes searched mine with something bittersweet.

“You know,” he murmured, brushing a tear from my cheek, “your strength scares me sometimes.”

“Why?” I asked, genuinely confused.

“Because… every time life tries to break you, you don’t just survive it. You turn it into something softer. Kinder.” His throat bobbed. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

My chest tightened painfully.

“Conrad,” I whispered, “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Something flickered in his eyes — a soft ache, a longing he tried to hide but couldn’t.

“I’ll always be here when you need me,” he said. “Maybe not in the way we once dreamed, but in every way that matters.”

My breath caught.

He reached up, cupping my face with both hands now, thumbs brushing along my jaw. “Look at me,” he whispered. “Please.”

I looked.

“If you ever feel alone in this place… or scared… or lost… call me. I don’t care if it’s 3 AM. I don’t care if I’m at the hospital. I’ll come running.”

His voice cracked on the last word.

My heart crushed itself.

“Stay,” I breathed, my voice trembling. “Just for tonight. I don’t—” I swallowed hard. “I don’t want to fall asleep alone.”

He shut his eyes like he was fighting himself.

But when he opened them again, the war was over.

“Of course,” he whispered. “Of course I’ll stay.”

He sat down on the sofa first and gently tugged me into his side. I curled up against him like I’d done a hundred times when we were younger, but it felt different now — heavier, deeper.

His fingers stroked absent circles on my arm. His cheek rested lightly on the top of my head.

“Do you remember,” he murmured, “when you were twelve, and you had that nightmare about the storm?”

I let out a tiny laugh. “I ran into your room crying.”

“And you buried your face in my shirt and said, ‘Don’t leave me alone with the thunder.’”

I smiled weakly. “You stayed up the whole night with me.”

“Yeah.” His lips grazed my temple, soft as a sigh. “Some things don’t change, D”

Warmth bloomed in my chest, spreading slowly like sunrise.

After a while, his hand slid down to hold mine. Our fingers interlaced effortlessly, like they had a hundred lifetimes of practice.

“I’m scared,” I admitted quietly.

“I know,” he murmured. “But I believe in you more than you could ever understand.”

He kissed the side of my head again — lingering, gentle, heartbreakingly familiar.

“Sleep,” he whispered. “I’ll keep watch.”

His heartbeat was steady beneath my ear, and for the first time in weeks, the darkness didn’t feel as heavy.

When I woke, the first thing I noticed was warmth. Not the cold emptiness I’d grown used to, but the steady rise and fall of Conrad’s chest beneath my cheek. For a moment, I just lay there, listening to his heartbeat, letting it remind me I wasn’t completely alone.

His arm was still wrapped around me, protective and careful, as if even in sleep he was guarding me from the shadows. I hadn’t realized how much I needed that until now.

“Morning, D bear,” his voice rumbled softly when he stirred awake.

I blinked up at him, embarrassed I’d kept him there all night. “You Know You didn’t have to stay…”

“Yeah,” he chuckled faintly, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. “But you asked me to. And I’d never leave you when you need me.” he gave me a kiss to my forhead and pulled me close to him for a tight embrace.

Something warm bloomed in my chest, bittersweet and heavy.

He insisted on making breakfast, clattering around my new kitchen like he’d done it a hundred times before. The smell of toast and coffee filled the house, making it feel—if only for a moment—like a home. We sat across from each other at the small kitchen table, sunlight streaming in through the blinds, turning the simple scene into something achingly beautiful.

I watched him more than I ate, memorizing the way his hazel eyes softened when he looked at me, the curve of his smile when I managed to laugh at one of his terrible jokes. I wanted to bottle up this moment, keep it forever.

But reality came creeping back the second the plates were empty.

the sunlight framed him like a memory already fading.

He stepped close, his hand cupping my cheek again — the gesture I realized I would miss more than I should.

“When things get hard,” he said softly, “think of this moment. Think of how strong you’re standing right now.”

My eyes welled up. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to go either,” he whispered, voice breaking. “But if I stay longer… I won’t be able to walk away.”

His thumb brushed under my eye.

“And right now… you need a beginning more than you need me.”

A tear slipped down my cheek. He caught it with his thumb.

“D bear,” he murmured, leaning in, forehead against mine. “You’ll always be my girl… even if we’re not what we used to be.”

I inhaled sharply, my breath catching on a sob.

“And you’ll always be my home,” I whispered back.

Then he kissed me — slow, warm, full of everything we couldn’t say. Not goodbye. Not yet. Just a pause between heartbeats.

When he pulled back, his voice trembled.

“Goodbye, Adi. Find your happiness here. Don’t settle for less.”

I nodded, unable to speak.

His hand slipped away from my cheek.

He opened the door.

He stepped out.

And the click of the door closing behind him felt like the softest, quietest heartbreak.