Page 113 of Seeking Shadows

Then I hear a soft sound. Children’s giggles.

I turn my head and see two babies sitting on the living room rug. A little dark-haired boy with green eyes, holding a wooden block with a serious look of concentration. And a little blonde girl, also with green eyes, biting a toy while looking at me, curious.

My heart tightens.

My nephews.

For a moment, I stand there, unsure of what to do. They don’t even know me.

Laura is in there with them, playing, her presence is quiet. She looks at me, grinning, her forest green eyes gleaming with a soft, captivating gaze as she walks toward me.

"Edoardo. Eleonora."

They both look at her at the same time.

“Come.”

Edo hesitates for a second, then drops the pad and struggles to his feet, waddling toward her with determination. Eleonora lingers a little longer, watching me with an appraising gaze—until she decides it’s worth following her brother. But instead of walking confidently, she clings to the furniture as she moves toward Laura.

Laura crouches down and lets them touch her. Their touch is careful but natural, as if it were a part of her.

“They’re beautiful,” I murmur, unable to help myself.

She stares at me with those sharp eyes, analyzing my expression.

“They are.”

I approach slowly and crouch down next to them. Edo looks at me curiously before extending a small arm toward me, as if testing whether I’m real.

My heart melts.

I take his little hand and squeeze it lightly.

“Hi, Edoardo,” I say quietly.

He doesn’t say anything, but he studies me seriously, as if he’s trying to figure me out.

Eleonora tilts her head, still holding the toy. Then she lets go and crawls toward me, touching my knee as if to say, "What about you?"

I laugh, excited.

“Hi, Eleonora.”

She rests her head on my leg and stays there.

I plop down on the soft carpet in the living room, the twins sitting on either side of me, their green eyes shining with curiosity. Edo holds a toy that looks fascinating to him—a colorful block that he insists on chewing—while Eleonora plays with my hair, pulling at a few strands as if she’s analyzing the texture. I know the mix of black and white must seem strange to her.

I never thought I would like children so much.

Until I met my nephews.

Maybe if you weren’t so messed up in the head, you could have yours.

No, I don’t see myself as a mother.

I don’t think that life is meant for me. The idea of nurturing, of being the steady force a child needs—it feels out of reach.

I can’t imagine myself in that role, not with how unpredictable my mind can be. Raising a child requires a kind of stability and presence that I often feel I'm lacking.

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