Episode 17a: Shadows at the Baby Shower

Terry insisted on a small, quiet baby shower.

By “quiet,” she meant: no photographers, no socialites, no one trying to force me into the spotlight.

Perfect.

I linger in the shadows near the corner, frozen lemonade in hand. The twins—Persephone and Hades—are perched on the couch, eyes sharp as always, surveying the other children in the room. Already, they’ve begun their subtle mentorship program: tiny, mischievous lessons on observation, timing, and the proper application of minor chaos.

“Daddy,” Persephone whispers, “watch closely. They need training in cleverness.”

“…I’m watching,” I reply, voice low.

Hades tilts his head, smirking faintly. “…And they must learn from the masters.”

Diana is seated nearby, relaxed in a rare moment, deep in discussion with Lina and Mira about literature. Her usual tsundere defenses are down. Laughs soft. Gestures animated but gentle. She occasionally glances at the twins, watching them guide the younger children.

“…I could get used to this,” I murmur.

Terry greets guests, effortlessly juggling small talk and managing snacks, all while throwing occasional appreciative glances toward the shadows where I linger. Damien hovers quietly beside her, occasionally exchanging notes on the guest list or small details for the baby.

And me? I quietly observe, correcting font alignment on a small baby shower banner via my phone, adjusting a tiny table layout in my head, and silently chuckling at how horribly mismanaged similar events would be if left to anyone else.

The twins have taken special interest in a few toddlers who wander too close to the punch bowl. With whispered instructions and tiny gestures, they subtly cause mischief: spilled juice, tripped shoelaces, small chaos—but always harmless, always hilarious.

I can’t help but grin behind my mask. Their methods are refined. Efficient. And, just slightly cruel in the most endearing way.

At one point, Persephone signals me. I glance down and, unthinking, perform a faint, almost automatic courtesy—bending slightly at the waist, shadowed and minimal.

The twins giggle. “…Perfect, Daddy. Excellent execution. Very public display.”

I freeze. Eyes wide behind the mask.

Hades whispers: “…They see you.”

And indeed, one of the cousins notices the subtle gesture.

“Oh! Beckett!” she says, softly but pointedly, eyes wide. “You… you’re here? And… proper etiquette too?”

I retreat slightly. Shadows. Invisible. But my cheeks heat behind the mask.

Diana notices the twins’ antics and my sudden exposure. Her eyes glitter with amusement.

“Careful,” she murmurs, tapping my shoulder. “They do love to pick on you. And you… let them.”

“…It’s instructional,” I mutter.

She chuckles, helping me straighten slightly, her hands brief and firm. “And yet… you accept the compliment.”

“…Unusual,” I admit.

The twins continue their “mentorship” program with other children. I watch, quietly adjusting minor details in decorations and seating. Every spilled punch, every whispered instruction, every tiny bit of chaos is noticed—but nobody can pin it on me.

I am the shadow. The invisible hand. The quiet ninja.

Terry pauses beside me, whispering softly. “Beckett… you always make everything better. Everyone notices it, even if you don’t it does. We all… appreciate you. Especially the kids.”

I glance down at Persephone and Hades. They grin slyly, having “corrupted” the tiny minds just enough to amuse themselves and test my patience.

“…I suppose,” I murmur, “…they are effective students.”

Terry laughs quietly. “And their teacher is excellent.”

Later, Diana and I finally find a small quiet corner. I observe the twins correcting minor chaos and guiding the little ones.

“They take after us,” Diana murmurs softly, leaning closer and placing her arm on my shoulder. “…And you. You’re their model, even if you lurk in the shadows.”

“…They do me proud and likewise for you as well,” I reply, sipping my lemonade.

By the end of the shower, everything is calm. Food eaten. Guests smiling. Gifts neatly arranged. Chaos contained—just enough to make it memorable, but still under control.

Diana flops into the chair beside me, pjs rumpled from a weekend off, stretching luxuriously.

“Another successful event,” she says, picking up her book. “And look—your shadows are everywhere, Beckett. You’re appreciated. Even if you never step into the light.”

I allow a faint smile. Shadows safe. Observing. Loved. Included.

The twins curl around me. Persephone hands me a miniature “ninja apprentice” drawing, Hades nods solemnly.

I sip my frozen lemonade. The family laughs, the baby giggles, and even the small chaos of the twins is somehow perfect.

In the shadows, everything is exactly as it should be.