SHADOWLESS LOVE

Chapter 10: CHAPTER 10- A STRANGE CONVERSATION



The round table stood amidst a breathtaking greenhouse—a sanctuary of cascading ivy, vibrant blooms, and softly gurgling fountains. Moonlight spilled through the glass panels above, weaving an ethereal glow that bathed the space in silvery light. Yet the beauty of the surroundings was at odds with the tension that simmered between us.

Ivelle Ivaona was across from me, her every movement deliberate as she poured tea into my cup. Her composure was flawless, her icy grace veiling whatever storm brewed beneath. At this moment, she looked untouchable, like a porcelain doll that no one dared to even brush a finger over.

But she had no idea how much she unnerved me.

"Have you taken a liking to me, sir?" She asked, her tone polite but sharp.

I leaned back in my chair, allowing a slow grin to spread across my face. "Is it a crime to admire heavenly beauty?"

Her hand hesitated briefly before setting the teapot down. I caught the faintest flicker of something in her eyes—a crack in the mask she wore so carefully.

"You have beautiful eyes, Princess," I said, my voice low, testing.

She stiffened. "Princess?" she repeated, her tone clipped. "We aren't close enough for nicknames."

"But we're getting married, aren't we?" I chuckled, swirling the tea in my cup.

Her gaze sharpened, her lips pressing into a thin line. It was clear she didn't appreciate my cavalier attitude, but she said nothing. Instead, she took a deliberate sip of her tea, the faintest smile tugging at her lips as she set the cup down.

"Too sweet," she murmured, almost to herself.

I raised an eyebrow, tasting the tea myself. Too sweet, indeed. But I dropped another three sugar cubes into my empty cup anyway, stirring them with exaggerated care. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice laced with genuine horror.

"Enjoying your tea," I replied with a grin. "It's too delicious to waste, Erika."

The name fell from my lips before I could stop it, and the air in the greenhouse seemed to freeze.

Her body went rigid, her eyes widening in shock. The playful banter between us evaporated, replaced by a deafening silence. Moonlight illuminated her expression—equal parts confusion and hurt.

She isn't Erika. She will never be Erika.

I clenched my jaw, the ghost of my past threatening to drag me under. Erika was gone, and yet, her shadow loomed over every moment, every choice.

"You seem distracted," Ivelle said finally, her voice quiet but edged with steel.

I forced a smile. "Forgive me. Old habits."

Her gaze lingered on me, assessing me before she rose from her seat. "Please excuse me. I need to retrieve something important."

She walked away without waiting for a response, her back straight, her movements precise. But there was something in the way her hands trembled ever so slightly that made my chest tighten.

Stupid heart. Don't start feeling things you shouldn't.

I slumped back in my chair, running a hand through my hair. The weight of my slip pressed heavily on my chest, a bitter reminder of wounds I hadn't let heal.

My phone buzzed on the table, its vibration cutting through the silence. I glanced at the screen.

Bubu.

The corner of my lips twitched upward despite the ache in my chest. I picked up the video call, and there he was—my four-year-old son, grinning with all the mischievous joy in the world.

"PAPA, GUESS WHAT?" he shouted, his excitement infectious.

I groaned inwardly. That phrase never led to good news. "Bubu, what happened now? Did Grandpa do something weird again?"

He leaned closer to the camera, his grin widening. "I found Grandpa's secret notebook!"

"Secret notebook? What's in it?" I whispered, playing along.

"His love confession to the pink-haired lady! Four hundred pages of it!"

I nearly choked. "WHAT?!"

Bubu nodded eagerly. "Love can bloom anywhere, Papa—even between enemies!"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Didn't I tell you to stop reading romance novels with Cassian?"

Bubu pouted. "That's why you were born single, Papa."

"Single?!" I sputtered. "If I were born single, you wouldn't even exist!"

But then, his face fell, and his voice turned quiet. "It's not like you and Mom even loved each other."

The lightness in my chest vanished. His words were a blade, sharp and unforgiving.

"Bubu," I said softly, my voice trembling. "What are you saying?"

He sniffled, looking down. "Mama and Papa just act in front of Bubu. It's not real."

His small shoulders shook, and the sound of his quiet sobs shattered something inside me.

"Bubu," I whispered, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Listen to me. Mama and Papa love you more than anything in the world. That's all that matters, okay?"

He nodded slowly, his sniffles fading. I forced a smile. "Now, put Grandpa's notebook back before he catches you, okay?"

Bubu giggled, the sound like sunlight breaking through the storm.

The call ended, and I sat there, the weight of guilt pressing heavily on my chest.

"You have a beautiful son, sir."

Her voice startled me, and I turned to see Ivelle standing behind me, two files in her hands. Her gaze was steady, but there was a softness to her expression that hadn't been there before.

She sat down across from me, setting the files on the table. "You didn't mention having a son before."

"There's a lot I haven't mentioned," I admitted.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Like why you and Bubu's mother never truly became a family?"

The question hit harder than I expected. I hesitated before answering, choosing my words carefully.

"Bubu's mother and I… we were never in love," I said finally. "Our relationship was a contract, born out of necessity. The physical aspect happened once. "

Her expression didn't change, but her eyes darkened. "And that was enough to bring a child into the world?"

I nodded. "He wasn't planned, but he's the best thing that ever happened to me. Still, his mother and I… we were strangers, even after everything. We tried, for his sake, but you can't force love where it doesn't exist."

Her gaze lingered on me, unreadable. "So, what now?"

"Now," I said, meeting her eyes, "I make sure Bubu has a family that feels real. Even if it's built on lies."

The tension between us was electric, the air heavy with words left unsaid. Somewhere in the background, the fountains continued their gentle melody, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside me.

Her eyes darkened as she stared at me. "Isn't it strange?" she said softly, but there was an edge to her voice. "Two young people, a man and a woman, spent nearly three years together, and yet, there was no romantic feeling involved?"

I met her gaze, unflinching. "Have you heard of Mission Amplifier?"

She frowned, her confusion evident. Her sharp eyes silently questioned what that had to do with our conversation.

"The top-secret mission carried out by the government to dismantle the terrorist group Yati six years ago," she said, her tone cautious yet precise.

I nodded, leaning back slightly as I picked up a macaron from the tray. "The leader of Mission Amplifier was my child's mother's first and only love," I said, my voice calm but weighted.

Her frown deepened. "What?" she whispered, barely audible.

I didn't bother meeting her gaze as I continued. "He was the love of her life—a love brutally and miserably snuffed out by the Yati."

The silence between us grew heavy, the soft sound of the fountain behind us seeming distant and out of place.

"What are you saying?" She asked, her voice hesitant but steady.

I set the macaron back on the plate, my appetite gone. "Our relationship," I said slowly, "started as a one-night stand. To this day, neither of us has touched the other beyond that night. She couldn't even bear to have a conversation with me lasting more than five minutes unless it involved our son."

Her lips parted, but no words came.

"She is," I added, "the mother of my child, someone I am duty-bound to respect and help when the time comes. But that's it. Nothing more."

The truth was out, plain and unapologetic.

I saw the flicker of disbelief in her eyes, but I pressed on. "The arrangement between us is purely transactional. In exchange for having full custody of Bubu, I promised her one thing—that I would destroy the Yati ."

Her brows knit together, her expression unreadable, but the tension in her posture gave her away.

I allowed myself a dry laugh, leaning back in my chair. "You know, people seem to find it so impossible to believe that someone can continue loving the dead. But she does. She clings to that love as if it's only keeping her alive." Just like me, chasing after shadows, which are not even there anymore.

Her gaze didn't waver. For a moment, neither spoke, the quiet stretching out like a taut thread ready to snap.

"So, you're saying," she finally said, her voice low, "you've never tried to replace him? Never tried to break her loyalty to a ghost?"

I met her gaze, my voice steady but hollow. "Why would I? Her love for him is the only thing that makes her human anymore. And besides…" I trailed off, glancing at the empty cup in front of me.

"Besides what?" she pressed.

I am no different from her.

"She and I were never meant to be anything more than strangers tied by a child." My words hung in the air, heavy and final.

For the first time, her eyes softened, though the storm within them didn't fade entirely. She studied me, her silence saying more than words ever could.

"And what about you?" She asked, tilting her head slightly. "Do you believe in loving the dead?"

I gave a humorous chuckle, shaking my head. "What do you think?"

Her breath hitched, but she said nothing. Instead, she leaned back, her gaze never leaving mine. The tension between us lingered, electric and unresolved, as if the greenhouse walls were trapping more than just the night's warmth.


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