Chapter 94: Laughter in the Living Room
Lisa’s POV
When we enter the house, something inside me unwinds—not in slow motion, but with a soft exhale, like a knot that loosening after being pulled relentlessly for too long. There is a softness in the air tonight, a fragile glowing peace that binds itself to us just as the evening breeze coming in from the cracked window.
After all these years we’ve lived all over the map, home is actually home for the first time. And that truth blooms in my chest like something warm and impossibly tender.
Leo tosses his keys onto the little ceramic bowl by the door,
“We made it through today,” he says.
I take my shoes off. “We did more than survive,” I say, with an effortless smile creeping across my lips. “Who’d have thought we’d be able to do that so well?”
“And we didn’t throttle anyone either,” he adds, grinning.
“Very impressive restraint.”
He moves forward just enough for his fingertips to brush mine. The touch is so light it might have been inadvertent, but nothing with us feels accidental anymore. “Come on,” he whispers. “Let’s sit for a while.”
I trail behind him into the living room. Not silence—not like the silence that used to be cold and brittle and an invisible barrier behind which we both hid—but rather a muted hush that was tinged with ease.
Safe. We finally had a place to call home, a place that neither of us had ever really thought would exist for us.
“What are you in the mood for?” I ask as I pull a blanket over my knees.
He takes the remote and tosses it lightly from one hand to the other. “We could watch something. If you like. Or we can just sit here and look at each other until one of us breaks.
I arch an eyebrow. “You think you would win?”
“I certainly would win,” he said, sounding suspiciously self-confident.
“Bold claim.”
“True claim.”
I burst into laughter—an unrestrained, blinding-ly bright sound which even after all these years of living in my head syncing up with that of Alex’s I barely recognise as being my own. Its reverberations fill the room, ricocheting off the walls that were too silent, too cold, too vacant.
And the way Leo looks at me when I’m laughing… it does something to me. This is not the gaze of a man entertained; it is the gaze of a man hypnotized, comforted, melted away. “You’ve been laughing more,” he said simply.
“That’s because you’ve been giving me reasons to.”
He shifts, one arm stretching out behind the couch. “I like that,” he admitted softly. “I want this room to learn to the sound of this.”
His candidness hits me right in the chest and I pull the blanket up closer feeling like I’m suddenly shy in the best possible way.“It’s just getting used to it already.”
Leo turns on the TV and begins scrolling casually through the movies, his arm occasionally brushing my shoulder.“Action? Romance? Documentary that we’ll pretend to watch but fall asleep during?”
“Let’s do something light,” I suggest. “Comedy maybe.”
“Comedy it is.”
He turns on something for us to watch that neither of us really focuses on, because within a few minutes we are narrating the scenes, throwing playful taunts, lightly ribbing each other in a way we haven’t done in so long.
His commentary is ridiculous, over-the-top, and I laugh every single time. Mine is crisp and unexpected, and it elicits one of those rare, genuine laughs that he used to hide from the world.
“Lisa,” he utters at one point, freezing the movie in the middle of the scene. “Did you know you get this tiny wrinkle near your nose when you’re about to laugh but trying not to?”
My eyes widened. “I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
“And you stare at me long enough to notice it? ”
“Long enough to memorize it.”
The heat that floods through me is so intense that I have to avert my eyes. “Stop saying things like that.”
“Why? Does it make you shy?”
There’s a teasing note in his voice.
“Yes,” I admit. “It does.”
“Good,” he says, poking my shoulder playfully. “Because you make me shy all the time.”
So we look at each other then—look, up close—and time stretches in a way that’s sweet, not oppressive. A silent affection was hanging in the air between us, influenced with mutual understandings with fresh love. I notice I’m leaning in a little towards him, and what he does next is instant — he moves so I can rest comfortably at his side.
My head rested on him as if it was always like this always should rest on his shoulder. His arm envelops me and his fingertips graze my upper arm so softly it feels like a vow.
"It’s been a long time since we had evenings like this." I breathe softly. “We just didn’t do that.”
I raise my head slightly. “But now?”
“I want to end every day like this.
I let myself sink into the feeling. The comfort. The warmth. The intimacy that we made anew from the debris of past mistakes.
We keep watching the movie—or pretending to—while sharing quiet jokes, rubbing shoulders, trading tiny glances that feel like little sparks that light up the room. The walls are lined with every laughter that echoes in the space without meeting the silence.
At some point it cuts out and neither of us notices until the credits roll and Leo looks at me. Leo looks at the blank screen, then at me. “Want to do another one?”
“At least promise not to roast the characters again,” I say, batting my eyes at him.
“No promises.”
I bump him with my elbow. ‘Should we talk instead, then?
“We’re talking already,” he says, indulgently. "Talk more."
His lips curl into a smile and he shifts so that we are more closely face-to-face. “OK, tell me something that you haven't told me for a long time.”
I take a deep breath as the question bubbles inside me. Then with gentle authority, I say, “I like this version of us. I like who we are at this moment.”
It’s instant warmth to his eyes. “Me too.”
“And I’m happy,” I add. “Really happy.”
Beneath the covers, Leo’s fingers close around mine, entwining his fingers with mine with such intense gentleness that for a moment I can’t breathe. “Then I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep it that way.”
And the night, with light laughter, soft conversation, and the easy warmth of togetherness—solidifies once again into one more piece of the home we are quietly, patiently rebuilding.
One evening, one smile, one whispered truth at a time.