THE LAST LETTER

CHAPTER 6

Clara barely slept that night.

She lay awake in her room, staring at the ceiling, listening to the quiet hum of the air-conditioning and the distant ticking of the wall clock. Everything around her was calm, expensive, perfect.

But her heart wasn’t.

The memory of her father’s voice still echoed in her head, sharp and final. Her mother’s warning was too soft, but heavy with meaning.

And Thomas’s last message sat on her screen like a wound that refused to close.

Don’t Disobey them because of me.

Clara reread it until her eyes stung.

She didn’t know what hurt more–her parents’ disapproval, or the fact that Thomas sounded like someone already preparing to lose her.

The next morning, breakfast felt like a test.

Her mother sat at the dining table as if nothing had happened, sipping tea and flipping through her tablet. Her father remained quiet, his attention on the newspaper, though Clara could tell he wasn’t reading.

They were both watching her.

Clara forced herself to sit upright and eat slowly, even though her stomach felt tight.

Then her mother spoke without looking up.

“After school today, you’ll come straight home.”

Clara’s fingers paused on her spoon.

“Yes, Mum,” she replied.

Her mother finally lifted her eyes.

“And Clara,” she added calmly, “don’t make me repeat myself again.”

Clara swallowed.

“Yes, Mum.”

Her father didn’t speak. But the silence he kept was louder than words.

At school, the atmosphere was different.

Not tense like Clara’s home.

Graduation was close, and everyone could feel it.

The school compound buzzed with preparations–students moving in groups, teachers discussing schedules, and the sound of laughter filling the air like the whole school was holding its breath for something beautiful.

On the notice board outside the principal’s office, a fresh paper had been pinned boldly:

GRADUATION CEREMONY TWO WEEKS TO GO.

Clara paused in front of it for a moment, staring at the words as if they meant something deeper than just an event.

Two weeks.

Two weeks until everything would change.

As she walked down the corridor, she overheard voices.

“I heard we’re wearing white gowns,” a girl said excitedly.

“No, it’s blue and gold,” another replied quickly. “My sister graduated last year. They changed it.”

“Ah, I don’t care the colour,” a boy laughed. “As long as I no repeat class.”

Someone else chimed in.

“They said we’ll rehearse next week. If you miss rehearsal, they won’t allow you stand on stage.”

“That’s wicked.”

“It’s not wicked, it’s discipline,”they laughed.

Clara passed them slowly, her chest tightening.

To everyone else, graduation was joy.

Freedom.

A celebration.

But to Clara… it felt like a countdown.

Because after graduation, her parents would no longer have to pretend.

They would start shaping her future properly.

And she was afraid their version of her future did not include Thomas.

School was the only place Clara felt like she could breathe, yet even there, she couldn’t shake the heaviness in her chest.

Students laughed, shouted, and rushed through the corridors like life was normal. But Clara moved through them like she was walking underwater.

When she entered the classroom, her eyes found Thomas immediately.

He sat near the window, his head bent over his notebook, but Clara noticed the stiffness in his shoulders. Even from a distance, she could tell he was tense.

As if he already knew.

Thomas looked up, and their eyes met.

He stood up slowly and walked toward her.

“Clara,” he said softly.

She stopped beside her desk, gripping her bag strap.

“Thomas.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to. The silence between them carried everything.

Thomas lowered his voice.

“Can we talk after school?”

Clara hesitated.

“My mum said I should come home straight,” she admitted.

Thomas’s jaw tightened slightly, and his gaze dropped for a second.

Then he nodded, like he expected it.

“Just a few minutes,” he said. “Please.”

Clara looked around. The classroom was already filling up with students. Their voices and laughter made her feel exposed.

Still, she nodded.

“Okay.”

Thomas’s shoulders relaxed a little.

“Thank you,” he murmured before returning to his seat.

The day dragged on.

Clara tried to focus in class, but her mind kept drifting. Every time a teacher spoke, her thoughts returned to her father’s words.

A boy who cannot even protect himself.

It made her angry. Not because her father had insulted Thomas, but because she knew Thomas had been protecting himself all his life. He had simply been doing it without privilege.

By the time the closing bell rang, Clara’s heart was racing.

Students poured out of the classroom, excited to leave. Clara remained behind for a moment, pretending to rearrange her books until the room cleared.

Thomas waited outside the school gate.

When Clara stepped out, he didn’t speak immediately. He only looked at her like he had been waiting all day just to make sure she was still standing.

Clara slowed down when she saw him.

Thomas’s voice was low. “You didn’t sound like yourself yesterday.”

Clara swallowed. “I wasn’t.”

Thomas nodded slowly, like he already expected that answer.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The noise of students leaving school surrounded them, but between them, everything felt distant.

Then Thomas said quietly, “I couldn’t sleep.”

Clara’s eyes lifted to him.

Thomas looked away, jaw tight. “After you told me they knew… I kept thinking about it.”

Clara’s voice cracked. “They spoke about you like you were a mistake.”

Thomas gave a small smile, but it wasn’t happy.

“my mum said she was disappointed in me,” he said.

Clara shook her head. “But I'm not.”

Thomas looked at her then, really looked at her.

“Two Weeks to graduation scares me,” he whispered.

Clara’s breath caught.

Thomas hesitated, then added, “That day you came to my house… after you left, my mum didn’t say anything for a long time.”

Clara’s eyes softened.

“She just sat down,” Thomas said, voice quieter. “And when she finally spoke, she told me… ‘That girl is not for you.’”

Clara’s heart dropped.

Thomas’s eyes hardened slightly.

“I got angry,” he admitted. “But she didn’t argue. She only looked at me and said this is not a normal classmate relationship, that I was supposed to focus on my studies.”

Clara’s throat tightened.

Thomas swallowed. “And I didn’t know what to say.”

Clara reached for his hand and held it.

Thomas didn’t pull away.

He held her back like he needed something steady.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Clara whispered.

Thomas’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

He just stared at her, like he was trying to memorize her face.

Then, suddenly, Clara froze.

Across the road, a black car had stopped.

Clara recognized it immediately.

Her father’s car.

Her stomach dropped.

Thomas noticed the change in her face.

He followed her gaze.

His whole body stiffened.

Clara’s voice came out like a whisper. “That’s my dad.”

Thomas didn’t speak.

He only squeezed her hand once, then let go slowly.

“You need to go,” he said, firm but gentle.

Clara shook her head. “Thomas–”

“Clara,” he interrupted softly, “please.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

Clara turned back to Thomas.

He didn’t smile.

He looked like someone trying not to break.

“Text me when you get home,” he said.

Clara nodded quickly.

“I will.”

As she walked closer to the car, she already knew who was inside

The back door opened slowly.

Clara stood frozen, her heart pounding like it wanted to tear through her chest. Then the driver stepped out and walked around the car, opening the door wider.

“Madam Clara,” he greeted quietly.

But Clara wasn’t looking at him anymore.

Because the tinted glass rolled down.

And her father’s face appeared.

Calm.

Cold.

Watching her like she was a stranger.

“Get in the car, Clara,” he said.

Her knees almost gave way.

Clara turned to Thomas, her eyes filling with tears.

The door shut behind her with a heavy sound.

And it felt like something in her life had just locked.

The car began to move.

Clara pressed her face against the window immediately.

Thomas was still standing there.

And Clara couldn’t breathe properly, because she realized he looked like someone watching the last thing he loved disappear.

She turned her head slowly.

Her father sat beside her in silence, his gaze fixed ahead.

Then his voice came, low and controlled.

“You really thought I wouldn’t find out?”

Clara’s chest tightened.

Because now she understood.

This wasn’t a warning anymore.