Bound By Shadows

Chapter 32 - Fragile Smiles, Hidden Scars

The house felt quieter than ever. Not because it was empty, but because for the first time in weeks, peace lingered between us. Keifer had been discharged from the hospital two days ago, and now, the two of us were back in the house we had once called both a prison and a home.

I glanced at him as he sat on the couch, his arm draped lazily over the backrest, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was supposed to be resting, but the stubborn man had already started scanning through work files on his tablet. His jaw was still pale, his movements slower than usual, but the air of control never left him.

“You’re not supposed to be working,” I said, folding my arms across my chest as I stood near the kitchen counter.

“I’m not working,” he replied smoothly without looking up. “I’m just… browsing numbers.”

“Browsing numbers,” I repeated flatly. “That’s what you call it now?”

Finally, he looked up. His lips curled in that faint smirk that made me want to both slap and kiss him. “You’ve been watching me for the last ten minutes. If I was really working, you would’ve stormed over by now. Admit it, you just like staring.”

My face heated, and I quickly turned back toward the sink. “Don’t flatter yourself, Watson. I was just making sure you don’t pass out with that fragile body of yours.”

Behind me, he chuckled — a low, rich sound that sent an unwilling shiver down my spine. “Fragile? Sweetheart, I survived bullets, betrayal, and you… I think I’ll live.”

I turned sharply, glaring at him, though my lips betrayed me by twitching upward. “Survived me? What am I, a natural disaster?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Category five hurricane, to be exact.”

I grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at him. He caught it effortlessly despite the wince of pain that flickered across his features when his shoulder jerked. My smile faded instantly.

“Keifer…” My voice softened.

He shook his head quickly, leaning back against the couch as if nothing had happened. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s just a sting.”

But I knew better. I had seen the way he pressed a hand against his side when he thought I wasn’t looking, the way he stilled at night when his body ached. He was trying to shield me from the remnants of his pain, but I wasn’t blind.

“You could’ve told me you’re still hurting,” I murmured, walking toward him slowly.

His gaze lifted, intense but softened with something rare. “And make you worry more? You’ve already carried enough, Jay.”

I sat beside him, my shoulder brushing against his. For a moment, silence enveloped us. Then, because I couldn’t bear the heaviness, I muttered, “Still doesn’t change the fact that you’re stubborn. And annoying. And—”

“—and devastatingly handsome,” he finished for me with a smug grin.

I rolled my eyes. “See? Impossible. Completely impossible.”

But he leaned closer, his voice dipping into something gentler. “And yet… you’re still here with me.”

Something inside me melted. I wanted to be angry at him for always pushing himself, for never admitting weakness. But instead, I found myself laughing softly. “You’re impossible, Keifer Watson… but maybe… just maybe, you’re mine.”

His hand found mine slowly, his fingers threading through, strong yet trembling ever so slightly. He squeezed, not too hard, mindful of the ache in his own body.

“Yours,” he whispered back. “Always.”

That night, we didn’t do much — no dramatic declarations, no passionate outbursts. Instead, we teased each other until laughter filled the quiet house again. And when exhaustion took over, I shifted closer, and he pulled me gently into his arms, ignoring his own pain.

We lay tangled together, his lips brushing my hair, my head on his chest. For the first time in forever, I felt like maybe… just maybe… we weren’t broken anymore.

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