Law Beyond Shadows

Dream Come True

The evening stretched lazily into the night as I sat on my couch, the soft glow of the lamp casting warm shadows across the room. The ring of my phone jolted me out of my reverie, and I was surprised to see Frank's name flashing on the screen. With a curious mix of anticipation and nerves, I answered.

I: "Hey, Frank. Long time no talk."

Frank engaged in some small talk before broaching the topic of Shane and me parting ways. His concern was palpable, a silent question lingering in the air.

F: "I've noticed you've been alone a lot lately. Did something happen with Shane?"

I hesitated for a moment before answering.

I: "Shane and I aren't seeing each other anymore."

There was a brief pause before Frank spoke again.

F: "So, what have you been doing as a single girl?"

I: "I was out with Murdock, Karen, and company the other day. We talked about you a bit."

My mind raced. I had no idea what prompted me to mention Frank, but I felt a strange mix of boldness and shyness.

F: "Talking about me, doc? What about?"

I: "Well, you know, things..."

F: "Things? Come on, tell me."

I: "I was expecting you to be hurt again, to appear on my balcony and ask me to take a look."

F: "Rooting for my unsuccess, are we?"

I: "Rooting for my success, actually..."

F: "What do you mean? You want me dead or what?"

I: "I cannot think of a better way to say this, Frank, without compromising myself, so I'm gonna be direct."

F: "Tell me, then."

I: "Can I buy you dinner?"

F: "You mean like..."

I: "I'd invite you to go out, but I understand you're trying to maintain a low profile, so what about you come to my place tomorrow night, and we talk a bit?"

F: "Isa, it's not that I'm not interested, but I can't put you in danger like that. If someone understands that I care about you, discover who you are... I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened to you."

I: "Frank, I don't care. I want to see you. I miss you."

After some more talking, Frank reluctantly agreed to the dinner at My place.

—-------

The next night, my house was adorned with a warm glow as I prepared for Frank's visit. The air was charged with anticipation when the doorbell rang. Frank stood there, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

F: "Are you sure about this?"

I: "Absolutely."

As the night unfolded, laughter filled the room. We shared stories, reminiscing about the past and catching up on the time we had spent apart. It was a night of connection, of rediscovering the familiarity that had once defined our interactions. We found ourselves on the couch, laughing so hard that my stomach began to hurt. Abruptly, the laughter ceased, and Frank's gaze locked onto mine in a way that made my heart skip a beat. I reached for his glass of wine, placing it on the coffee table before turning back to him.

Our lips met in a passionate kiss, a culmination of desires and the magnetic pull that had always existed between us. Frank's hands traced the contours of my body, and he gently lifted me, placing me in his lap. The kiss deepened, an exploration of shared longing and the undeniable connection that time had failed to erase.

—-------

The soft glow of the TV illuminated the room as we settled on the couch, engrossed in a true crime documentary. Her presence beside me felt like a warmth that chased away the lingering shadows. My arm instinctively wrapped around her, pulling her close, and the weight of her head against my chest created a comforting anchor in the quiet of the evening.

The documentary played on, tales of mystery and suspense unfolding on the screen. My fingers traced absentminded patterns on her back, a rhythmic gesture that mirrored the cadence of the TV show. As the night progressed, the lines between fiction and reality blurred, and I found myself caught between the crime narratives on the screen and the peaceful slumber of the woman in my arms.

As she drifted into sleep, I continued to watch the documentary, my gaze shifting between the unfolding mysteries and the woman who had become an unexpected anchor in my tumultuous life. In that moment, I marvelled at the improbable turns that had brought us together, her unwavering support weaving our fates together in an intricate dance.

In the embrace of sleep, she seemed to find solace in my arms, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude and fear. Grateful for the unexpected connection that had blossomed between us, yet fearful of the complicated emotions that now stirred within me.

The room echoed with the soft murmur of the documentary, and my thoughts danced between love and guilt. The love I felt for her was overwhelming, a force that left me both exhilarated and terrified. It was a stark contrast to the guilt that lingered, a ghost from a past love that still cast shadows over my heart.

Her peaceful slumber seemed to amplify the complexities of my emotions. My deceased wife's memory lingered in the corners of my mind, and I couldn't shake the feeling that by allowing myself to care for someone new, I was betraying her memory.

As I held her close, the guilt gnawed at me. The fear of being vulnerable, of allowing myself to love again, clashed with the protective instincts honed by a life of danger. I cared for her deeply, and that care manifested as a potent mixture of fear and love.

The fear wasn't just about my own heart; it extended to the danger that lurked in the shadows. If anyone were to discover the depth of my feelings for her, the consequences could be deadly. In the quiet of the room, my protective instincts flared to life. I couldn't afford to let my guard down completely, not when the ghosts of my past threatened to unravel the fragile peace we had found in each other.

Pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, I offered a silent promise of protection and affection. The true crime documentary continued to play, its chilling narratives underscoring the untold story unfolding between us on that couch, suspended in the delicate balance between love, fear, and the ghosts that haunted my heart.