Married to Mr. Laurent
Chapter Nineteen: The Space Between Us
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Elián woke to warmth.
A quiet, unfamiliar kind that didn't burn or bruise—just was. Steady. Present.
He opened his eyes slowly.
Kairo lay beside him, still asleep, facing the other way but close enough that Elián could hear his even breathing. One arm was draped across the bed as if reaching out in his sleep, not touching, but almost.
Elián studied him.
In sleep, Kairo looked nothing like the cold CEO the world feared. No sharp commands. No armor. Just a man, vulnerable and quiet. Human.
It was disarming.
Elián turned on his side to face him, head propped against one hand.
He wasn't sure when things had started changing.
He only knew that something in him didn't hate the silence between them anymore.
It had become something else.
Something softer.
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Kairo stirred moments later.
His eyes fluttered open, confused for a second—until they met Elián's.
Neither spoke.
The silence felt like glass—thin and fragile, one wrong word away from shattering.
But Kairo surprised him.
"Did you sleep well?"
Elián hesitated, then gave the smallest nod. "Yeah."
A pause.
"You?"
Kairo turned fully now, their faces close, but not too close. "Better than I have in weeks."
The admission hung between them.
Elián wanted to say something biting, something distant. But it didn't come.
Instead, he asked, "Did you draw again last night?"
Kairo gave a soft chuckle, just under his breath. "No. You were too close. I didn't want to move and risk waking you."
Elián swallowed, unsure why those words made his heart feel heavy and light at the same time.
There was something unspoken there.
A care neither of them fully knew how to name yet.
---
Downstairs, the house felt colder.
Sterile.
It always did after mornings like this.
They ate breakfast in the sunroom, side by side instead of across from each other. Kairo kept his distance, didn't touch him, didn't push. But Elián noticed how often the man's gaze found its way back to him.
Elián caught him once, and instead of looking away, Kairo held his stare.
"You don't have to watch me like I'll disappear," Elián said quietly.
Kairo's jaw tightened slightly. "I'm not watching because I'm afraid you'll leave."
"Then why?"
Kairo didn't answer at first.
Then, softly, "Because I didn't see you before. And now I do. And I don't want to miss it."
Elián dropped his gaze.
Why did the truth sound so devastating in Kairo's voice?
---
Later that day, Elián wandered to the library alone.
He liked the quiet there. The smell of old pages and the worn leather of the reading chairs. It felt like a place untouched by the chaos of his marriage.
But as he reached for a book, something slipped free from between the pages and fluttered to the ground.
A photograph.
Worn at the edges. Black and white. Curled with age.
He picked it up.
It was of a boy—no older than ten—sitting on a high stool beside a woman with the same eyes. They were both laughing.
Elián stared.
Was that… Kairo?
There was something achingly familiar in the way the boy leaned into the woman's shoulder, utterly at peace.
He heard footsteps behind him and turned.
Kairo stood in the doorway, still and quiet.
"You found it," he said softly.
Elián held up the photo. "Your mother?"
Kairo nodded, stepping inside slowly. "I used to hide that in books when I missed her."
Elián looked down at it again. "She looked kind."
"She was," Kairo said. "She used to say I carried too much in my eyes for a child. Said one day I'd need someone to help me carry it."
Elián's throat tightened. "Is that why you hide everything? Because she's gone?"
Kairo looked at him, and for a moment, the businessman vanished completely.
"Because when she died, no one cared that I was hurting. Not even my father. I learned to wear suits and silence."
Elián walked toward him, photo still in hand.
"You don't have to wear silence with me."
Kairo's eyes shimmered, just faintly.
But he didn't reach for Elián. He didn't confess some grand emotion or fall to his knees.
He simply said, "Thank you," in a voice that shook more than either of them expected.
And Elián nodded, understanding something deeper than words could ever explain.
---
That night, they sat outside.
No rain this time—just the whisper of wind through the trees and the golden flicker of lantern light strung above the terrace.
Elián had a blanket over his shoulders and a warm mug of tea between his hands. Kairo sat beside him with whiskey, quiet and steady.
They didn't speak much.
They didn't have to.
But after a long silence, Kairo asked, "Do you think we'll ever be normal?"
Elián gave a tired smile. "Define normal."
"Not broken."
Elián looked at him. "We already are broken, Kairo. That's not going away. But that doesn't mean we can't still be… something real."
Kairo leaned back in his chair, exhaling. "I want real."
Elián sipped his tea. "Then stop looking for perfect."
Kairo glanced at him. "I'm looking at you."
Elián's breath caught.
The blanket felt too warm suddenly.
So he stood.
"I'm going to bed," he said.
Kairo stood too, a hint of worry flashing in his eyes. "Did I say something—?"
"No," Elián interrupted softly. "You just said too much."
And then he turned and walked away, heart racing.
Not from fear.
But from the truth of it all.
He was falling.
And maybe… just maybe… Kairo was too.
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End of Chapter 19
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