THE LAST SHADOW AT SUNSET

SHADOW BASE — RELAXATION ROOM, 6:47 PM

Dusk blanketed the base. Orange light from the window touched the edges of the wooden table where Adilof Broxtler sat sipping tea.

A notification blinked on the central projector:

> \[INCOMING CALL: JOSEPO STALINE]

Broxtler narrowed his eyes and tapped the green button. A projection appeared — the face of Josepo Staline, a bit thinner, with a backdrop of tall buildings and a foreign corporate logo.

"Broxtler," Josepo greeted with a voice that was deep but warm. "You look... unchanged."

"And you look more tired."

Josepo chuckled. "That's what happens when you become a makeshift director in a new city."

"Still abroad?"

"Yeah. The project's delayed. Their system's too bureaucratic. And… looks like I'll be here a while. Maybe… a long while."

Broxtler remained silent. No reaction — just a deep breath.

Josepo continued, "Take care of the base. And look after Shyblance. I know she can be… stubborn. But she's part of us."

"Always."

"I'll check in when things get better. But don't wait for me. Our world doesn't stop."

Before the call ended, Josepo looked at him more intently. "And don't be too hard on yourself. Even shadows need light… to be seen."

The signal cut off.

Broxtler stared at the blank screen for a few seconds, then turned off the system. He leaned back in his chair, slowly rubbing his face.

> "Out-of-town company. Foreign system. No clear timeline."

He stood up and glanced toward Shyblance's still-closed door.

> "Now… it's just the two of us."

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧

SHADOW BASE — SHYBLANCE'S ROOM, 7:03 PM

Soft evening light bounced off the walls. From behind her half-open door, Shyblance peeked out. She saw Broxtler sitting again in the main room, staring blankly at an untouched cup of tea.

She stepped out slowly, wearing a loose tee and shorts — not to tease, but to be comfortable.

"Just had a call?" she asked, flatly.

Broxtler nodded. "Josepo. He… doesn't know when he's coming back."

"Where exactly is he?"

"Out of town. Abroad. Said the government's system is too complex. The project… who knows when it ends."

Shyblance moved closer and sat across from him. Her gaze was softer than the night before.

"Why don't you look sad?"

Broxtler shrugged. "I'm… used to people leaving."

"That's it?"

"It's not that I don't care. I've just… learned not to expect more than I can control."

Shyblance rolled her eyes. "Sometimes I wish you'd explode. Get angry. Or at least show that you've lost something."

Broxtler exhaled slowly. "Loss has become a silent language, Shy. I don't even know how to translate it into tears or screams anymore."

She fell silent — not out of anger, but understanding.

She stood, walked to the small kitchen, and returned with two cups.

"Then tonight… let me be the angry one," she said, pouring hot tea. "But I won't punch walls. I'll just serve you bitter tea without sugar."

Broxtler smiled faintly. "Bitter isn't always bad."

She placed the cup in front of him and sat again.

"If we've been left behind… can we still hold this base together?"

"As long as we haven't left each other, this base still stands."

They looked out the window. The sky had turned dark.

No more words. But a quiet agreement settled between them: that even without Josepo, without maps, without a clear mission — they would stay. Because shadows still exist, even without light.

And in that quiet grief and growing trust, they knew\...

Tonight was theirs.

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧

SHADOW BASE – CENTRAL ROOM, 9:41 PM

The room was silent.

Dim lights cast soft shadows on gray concrete walls. The base's window showed a night sky beginning to fog — a result of the city's climate system malfunctioning over the past few days.

Shyblance lay on the synthetic leather couch. Her hair was down, cascading over her shoulders like a lost river. Her legs curled to the side, hands holding a warm cup of tea that had started to lose its steam.

Broxtler sat at the couch's far end, upright. He spun a data chip between his thumb and forefinger. A transparent screen in front of him showed airflow graphs from Sector B2, but his eyes didn't follow them. They were vacant. As if the graphs were just an excuse to dodge the real subject.

"You know," Shyblance said softly, "sometimes I wonder if you're even a biological being."

Broxtler didn't turn right away. "If I'm not, then I've done a great job pretending."

"No, I mean… you're too calm for someone living in a noisy world."

He spun the chip once more.

"When the world's loud, I choose silence. Not because I'm strong. But because if I join the noise… there's nothing left worth hearing."

Shyblance nodded slowly. Her eyes narrowed.

"Sometimes… I wish you'd scream."

Broxtler looked at her.

"For what?"

"To show you can lose control. That you can… hurt too."

Broxtler placed the chip on the table. Gently. Neatly.

"Losing control doesn't make me more human. What makes me human… is knowing I must not lose control in front of those I care about."

Shyblance stared at him.

"Then… who do you care about?"

He paused.

Then quietly, very quietly, he said:

"Those who don't give up even when I'm hard to understand."

She lowered her gaze, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Your answers are like a maze. No shortcuts, but always leading somewhere."

"Mazes… tire enemies. But make friends curious."

"And me… am I a friend or a foe?"

Broxtler turned fully, looking into her eyes — not with tactical distance, but emotional presence.

"You… are the only one who knows the way out of my mind."

Shyblance held her breath. Something tightened in her chest — not fear, but realization: this was the first time Broxtler was speaking not as a soldier… but as a man who feels.

She shifted closer.

"Broxtler…"

He remained still. But his eyes, his chest… no longer in standby mode. He wasn't ready to fight. He was ready to receive.

She rested her head on his shoulder. It was hard, rigid — like a pillar. But slowly, Broxtler tilted his head, just slightly, resting it against hers.

Silence.

No words.

But their bodies spoke. Of trust. Of wounds. Of a closeness not born from drama… but from the courage to stay when everything feels silent.

After several minutes…

Shyblance asked softly:

"If I never came back someday… would you miss me?"

Broxtler didn't answer immediately.

But eventually, he said…

"I don't know how to miss someone. But maybe… I'd still prepare two cups of tea every night. And wait for the sound of the door opening, even if I knew it wouldn't."

She nodded. Her eyes a little glassy, but her smile sincere.

"I hope I never give you a reason to wait in vain."

Broxtler whispered, firm and true:

"I trust you. Not because you're always right. But because you're always honest."

And that night…

They didn't speak again.

No dramatic hugs. No quick kisses like in action flicks. Just two people sitting together — and for the first time, truly feeling they weren't just surviving…

But living.

Together.

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧