Page 157 of Seeking Shadows

Wait—he planned this? Zane, who barely says a word most of the time, actually took the time to set this all up for me? A party with my brothers, with everyone here, all of it.

The realization hits me like a wave of warmth, a rush of affection that makes my heart swell to the point of bursting. It’s like I can feel my entire soul light up with love for him. He did this for me. Zane. He’s quieter than most, but when he cares, he shows it in the most unexpected, beautiful ways.

I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face as my chest fills with gratitude, admiration, and something deeper, something that feels like my heart is about to leap out of my ribcage. I want to hug him, kiss him, thank him in every possible way. I could leap into his arms right now and just pour all this love out, if we didn’t have company. I can’t wait to tell him just how much this means—later, when it’s just the two of us.

“Thank you for this. I loved it.”

“Always, baby.”

“Does that mean you like me, man?” Seth retorts, and I lose track of what was said before because I was too busy marveling at Zane and his angelic beauty.

Pietro narrows his eyes.

“That means if you don’t shut up now, your birthday party could end up in a hospital.”

“Laura, your husband is flirting with me,” Seth accuses.

“I’m not the flirting type. I like more direct approaches.”

“Wait until she falls asleep, and we’ll sort this out.”

Laura, without even looking up from her book, mutters:

“At least wait for the cake before you start the violence.”

Zane sighs.

“This is supposed to be a family event. Can we at least pretend there aren’t death threats in the air?”

“Zane,” Pietro looks at him with the most neutral expression possible. “If I can’t threaten Seth, what’s the point of life?”

Seth nods as if it’s a universal truth. “He has a point.”

I roll my eyes, laughing. The cake is still intact, the babies are fine, and no one was actually stabbed.

For a family party, I think this can be considered a success.

The air aroundthe tree is heavy with the weight of unsaid things. As I approach Seth, my mind feels like it’s about to burst with all the thoughts I've been holding back, but the moment I see him, perched on the branch like he’s part of the night itself, it all just quiets. His face is lit by the soft glow of the mansion lights in the distance, and it’s like the years between now and then disappear for a moment.

The years when we were just kids—twins who knew each other’s thoughts as if they were our own. I swear I can still feel the echo of those moments when we were both lost in the same silent sadness, when it was just the two of us and the weight of the world outside never touched us.

“This is the first time I’ve actually wanted to celebrate my birthday,” Seth says, breaking the silence with that usual, carefree tone, but I can hear the cracks in it. He’s not fooling anyone—not me, at least.

“Yeah, I get the feeling,” I murmur back, leaning against the tree, the ground cold beneath me. “Part of me still remembers the kids we once were. When Katie would get us cake.”

The words are like glass in my mouth—fragile, sharp with memories I’ve kept locked away. I wonder if Seth feels it too—the same pulse of nostalgia that stings in the back of my throat.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice smaller now, quieter. A flicker of something shifts in his eyes, something I know all too well. “We used to have cake. Used to be just... us.”

His words hang in the air like the ghosts of our past selves. I take a breath and push forward, feeling a sharp pang in my chest as I ask the question I’ve been too afraid to voice.

“She is still alive,” I whisper. I don’t need him to confirm it, but I need to hear him say it.

“I know,” he says, his voice low, weighed down by everything that’s been unsaid between us for too long.

The silence stretches. The words are almost too much to bear, like the fabric of the world is unraveling just a little more with each one. I know what he’s thinking—he’s thinking of her, of Katie, of the life we were supposed to have. I can see it in his eyes.

“Have you seen her?” I ask before my courage can fail me. The tension in my chest is too tight, and the air feels too thick with the weight of what we’ve lost.

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