SHADOW : The Man Behind The Screen

Chapter 11 - Weekend Reset

Warm sunlight slipped through the curtains, gently coaxing me awake.

For a moment, I lay there in a daze, caught between sleep and consciousness. Then I turned my head toward the wall clock.

8:30 a.m.

The house was still quiet. Typical weekend morning.

I pulled myself out of bed and stretched, letting my body adjust to the slower rhythm of Sunday.

As usual, I opened the window first.

Cool morning air drifted into the room, carrying the faint scent of damp soil and sun-warmed leaves. I stood there for a few seconds, breathing it in before turning back to make my bed.

It was a habit I refused to break. No matter how messy the day became later, at least one corner of my life had started neatly.

After freshening up in the bathroom, I stepped out and walked quietly past the guest room.

The door was still closed. Liam was probably still asleep. I chuckled softly. He needed the extra rest too.

Yesterday had been a full day. Between entertaining Zayn and Zarra, taking us out for dinner, surviving the fun park, and staying up late with cup noodles and a ridiculous romantic comedy, even Liam deserved to sleep in.

I made my way to the kitchen and poured myself a cup of warm water from the dispenser before settling onto one of the stools at the kitchen island.

For once, there was no rush. No school uniforms. No lunch boxes. No school run.

Just me, the quiet kitchen, and the important question of the morning. What should I make for breakfast?

My phone buzzed on the counter. I glanced at it.

Adam.

Morning, friend.

I stared at the message. Friend. Right.

Apparently, we were doing that now.

I took a sip of warm water before replying.

Morning.

His reply came almost immediately.

Weekend breakfast again?

I narrowed my eyes at the screen.

Are you monitoring my meals now?

No.

Just guessing.

A second later, another message appeared.

You seem like someone who cooks on weekends.

I paused. That was oddly accurate. I was about to grind some coffee when Liam appeared at the kitchen entrance.

"Morning, Cupcake."

He leaned against the wall, arms folded, hair slightly messy from sleep.

"Morning. Sleep well?" I asked, scooping the coffee beans into the grinder.

"Yeah. Best sleep in months," he said, yawning a little. "If I knew a change of place could fix my sleep, I would have come here every week."

I laughed. "You can always come, Liam."

"Careful. I might take that invitation seriously."

I rolled my eyes and reached for another cup.

"Want some coffee?"

He only nodded. I already knew his morning caffeine fix. Single shot. Black. No sugar.

While the machine hummed softly, I prepared my own iced almond latte, adding extra ice because warm mornings and hot coffee were not always friends.

Once both drinks were ready, I brought them to the living room where Liam was already sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his phone.

"Thanks," he said without looking at me.

I sat beside him, taking a slow sip of my iced latte. For a while, the room stayed quiet. Comfortably quiet.

Then Liam suddenly asked, "Do you have a boyfriend, Zetty?"

I almost choked on my drink.

"Wait. What?"

He smirked and finally looked at me, holding his Americano like he had just asked the most casual question in the world.

"It's been two years. Don't you want a husband?"

I blinked at him.

"Liam, it's not even nine in the morning."

"So?"

"So normal people don't start Sunday morning by attacking someone's love life."

"I'm not attacking." He leaned back against the sofa. "I'm asking."

"Sounds like an attack."

"It sounds like concern."

I gave him a flat look. He smiled. I hated that smile. It was the kind of smile he used when he knew I was about to avoid a topic and had already decided not to let me escape. I placed my glass on the coffee table.

"No. I don't have a boyfriend."

"Good."

I frowned. "Good?"

"Good as in at least you're not secretly dating some useless man."

"Liam."

"What?" He took a sip of his coffee. "I have standards for you."

I laughed despite myself. "You have standards for me?"

"Of course. Someone has to. You clearly don't."

I grabbed a cushion and hit his arm with it. He laughed, blocking me with one hand while keeping his coffee safe with the other.

"See? Violent. This is why you need a husband."

"I need peace, Liam. Not a husband."

His laughter softened. For a moment, he did not say anything. Then he looked at me properly.

"Do you really mean that?"

I looked away.

Outside, morning light spilled across the floor, soft and golden. The house was still quiet, but I knew it would not last long. Soon, Zarra would wake up demanding breakfast. Zayn would come out with a book in his hand. The day would begin again.

Did I mean it? I did not know. Peace sounded safer. Peace did not leave. Peace did not disappoint. Peace did not promise forever and disappear after the court settled everything.

"I don't know," I admitted.

Liam nodded slowly. That was one thing I liked about him. He teased too much, talked too much, and bought too many snacks, but when something mattered, he knew how to listen.

"I just don't want you to close your heart forever because one man didn't know how to value what he had."

My fingers tightened around my glass.

"Liam..."

"I'm serious." His voice was gentler now. "You don't have to rush. You don't even have to want marriage now. But don't punish yourself for what Adrian failed to be."

The name landed heavily between us.

Adrian.

I had not heard Liam say his name in a while.

Maybe because no one in my house said it unless necessary. I stared at the melting ice in my latte.

"I'm not punishing myself."

"Are you sure?"

I said nothing. Because the truth was, I was not sure. Maybe I had built my life around the children, work, bills, school runs, house chores, and survival because those things were predictable. Tiring, yes. But predictable. Love was not. Love had once walked into my life wearing promises and left me with two children, debts, and a silence so large I had to learn how to breathe around it.

Liam sighed.

"Zetty, wanting someone beside you doesn't make you weak."

I swallowed.

"I know."

"Do you?"

I looked at him, annoyed. "Why are you suddenly so philosophical? Did the cup noodles last night change your personality?"

He grinned.

"Maybe. Chicken curry flavour does things to a man."

I laughed, grateful for the escape. Before he could continue interrogating me, my phone buzzed on the coffee table.

Both of us looked at it.

Adam.

So what is breakfast today, friend?

My heart did a small, stupid thing. Nothing dramatic. Just a tiny flicker. Unfortunately, Liam noticed. His eyes moved from the phone to my face. I reached for it too quickly. Too guilty. Too obvious.

"Who's that?" he asked.

"No one."

His eyebrow lifted.

"No one has a name now?"

"It's just a friend."

"A male friend?"

I locked the screen and placed the phone face down.

"Liam."

He leaned back slowly, and his smirk returned.

"Oh."

"No. Don't 'oh' me."

"I didn't say anything."

"Your face did."

"My face is innocent."

"Your face is noisy."

He laughed.

Then, softer, he asked, "Is he good to you?"

The question should have been easy to answer.

But Adam was not anything yet. Not good.

Not bad. Not safe. Not dangerous. Just a man behind a screen who had somehow slipped into my morning with a single word.

Friend.

"I don't know him well," I said.

Liam's expression changed slightly. Not judgmental. Just alert.

"Then be careful."

"I am."

"Good." He took another sip of coffee. "Because if he hurts you, I'll find him."

I laughed. "You don't even know who he is."

"I own enough site people. Someone will know someone."

"That sounds illegal."

"It sounds efficient."

I shook my head, smiling despite myself. My phone buzzed again. I did not pick it up this time. But my eyes still went to it. Liam noticed that too, of course. He always noticed too much.

"Just don't disappear into a screen, okay?" he said quietly.

I looked at him.

"What does that mean?"

"It means someone can text you sweet things every day and still not be there when you need them."

The words sank deeper than I wanted them to.

I did not answer immediately. Because I knew he was right. And maybe that was why the thought scared me.

Adam was still a stranger. A familiar one now, maybe. But still a stranger. And somehow, I had already started expecting his messages. That was not a good sign. Not yet. Not this soon.

From down the hallway, Zarra's sleepy voice called out.

"Mama?"

The conversation broke.

I stood up quickly, almost relieved.

"Saved by the tiny boss."

Liam chuckled and finished his coffee.

"Go. I'll make breakfast."

I stopped walking and turned to him.

"You?"

He frowned. "Why do you sound horrified?"

"Because I like my kitchen alive."

"Rude."

"Accurate."

Zarra called again, louder this time.

"Mamaaa!"

I smiled and headed toward her room. Behind me, my phone buzzed once more on the coffee table. I did not check it. But I knew it was Adam.

And that bothered me more than I wanted to admit.

Breakfast turned out better than expected.

Liam did not burn the kitchen down, although he did somehow use three pans for something that could have been made with one.

Zarra ate her pancake with too much honey.

Zayn quietly shared his strawberries with her when she finished hers too fast. And Liam sat there like he belonged in the noise.

After lunch, he finally packed his things.

Zarra clung to his leg dramatically while Zayn stood by the door, pretending not to be sad.

"I'll come again," Liam promised, ruffling Zayn's hair before crouching to hug Zarra. "But only if your mommy doesn't ban me from her kitchen."

"She won't," Zarra said confidently.

I crossed my arms. "Don't make promises on my behalf."

Liam grinned and walked toward his car.

When he drove away, the house felt different.

Not empty exactly. Just quieter. I stood at the doorway for a while, watching until his car disappeared from view.

Behind me, Zarra yawned.

Zayn leaned against my side.Sunday returned slowly after that.

Laundry.

Toys.

Leftover snacks.

A cartoon playing too loudly in the living room.

And my phone, buzzing once in a while with messages I tried not to answer too quickly. Adam did not ask anything deep.

He did not flirt. He simply stayed there, somewhere behind the screen.

Did Liam reach home?

Are the kids okay?

Did you eat?

Small questions. Harmless questions.

The kind of questions that slipped quietly into a day before a person realized they had started waiting for them.

That night, after the kids finally fell asleep, I stared at his last message.

Good night, friend.

I should have smiled less.

I should have felt less comforted by it. But I did.

And maybe that was the dangerous part.

Because some things did not enter your life loudly. Some things came softly.One message at a time.