THE LAST LETTER

CHAPTER 7

The ride home was silent.

The black car moved smoothly through the city, its tinted windows hiding Clara from the world outside. Yet she felt more exposed than ever,like everyone could see the shame sitting in her chest.

Beside her, her father sat with calm control, his hands resting on his lap, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. He didn’t look angry.

That was what frightened Clara the most.

Anger could explode and disappear.

“You really thought I wouldn’t find out?” her father asked again, his voice low.

Clara swallowed hard. Her fingers trembled in her lap.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she whispered.

Her father’s lips curved into something that wasn’t a smile.

“You don’t get to decide what is wrong in this house, Clara.”

Clara turned her face away again, blinking fast.

Her father didn’t speak again until they entered their street. The gates opened slowly, like they were welcoming her back into a prison.

When the car rolled into the compound, Clara’s chest tightened.

The mansion looked the same–perfect walls, perfect flowers, perfect silence.

But now she knew.

This place didn’t protect her.

It owned her.

The driver opened the door for them, and Clara stepped out with weak legs. She didn’t even get the chance to walk into the house before her mother appeared at the entrance.

She was dressed neatly, as always. Calm. Elegant.

And waiting.

Her mother’s eyes swept over her face.

“Welcome,” she said softly.

It sounded polite.

But it wasn’t.

Clara lowered her gaze. “Good afternoon, Mum.”

Her mother’s eyes moved to Clara’s father.

“You went yourself?” she asked.

Her father adjusted his cufflinks calmly. “I needed to see it with my own eyes.”

Clara’s stomach dropped.

So he had watched them.

He had watched her hold Thomas’s hand.

Watched her stand close to him like she belonged to him.

Her mother exhaled slowly, then turned back to Clara.

“Go upstairs,” she said.

Clara hesitated.

Her mother’s voice sharpened slightly.

“Now.”

Clara moved quickly, her heart pounding as she climbed the stairs.

She could still feel their eyes on her back.

Like she was a stranger they had brought into their home by mistake.

Inside her room, Clara shut the door and leaned against it, breathing heavily.

Her hands were shaking.

Her whole body felt cold.

She rushed to her bed and pulled out her phone from her pocket.

The screen lit up.

No messages.

Thomas hadn’t texted.

Maybe he was scared.

Maybe—

A knock came at her door.

Clara froze.

She quickly slipped her phone under her pillow.

“Clara,” her mother called.

Clara swallowed. “Yes, Mum?”

The door opened.

Her mother stepped inside, closing it behind her.

And for the first time, Clara noticed something different.

Her mother’s calm wasn’t normal calm.

It was the kind of calm people had when they had already made up their mind.

Her mother walked toward the window and stood there, staring outside for a moment before turning back.

“Sit,” she said.

Clara’s throat tightened.

She sat slowly on the edge of her bed.

Her mother remained standing.

“You embarrassed me today,” she said quietly.

Clara blinked. “Mum, I—”

Her mother lifted her hand.

“Don’t.”

The word cut through the air.

Clara’s lips closed immediately.

Her mother stepped closer.

“Do you know how it looks,” she continued, “when the Matthews’ daughter is standing outside school like a common girl… holding hands with a boy from a street like that?”

Clara’s eyes filled with tears instantly.

“He is not a criminal,” Clara whispered. “He’s just—”

“A mistake,” her mother interrupted, voice colder.

Clara flinched.

Her mother stared at her like she was studying her.

“You are too young to understand what love does to a girl,” her mother said. “It makes you foolish. It makes you blind. It makes you think feelings are enough.”

Clara’s voice shook.

“But Mum… he makes me happy.”

Her mother’s eyes hardened.

“Happiness does not build a future.”

Clara’s hands clenched tightly in her lap.

Her mother reached for Clara’s bedside table and picked up her phone charger.

Then she looked at Clara.

“Give me your phone.”

Clara’s heart stopped.

“Mum?”

Her mother didn’t repeat herself.

She only stretched out her hand.

Clara stared at her.

“No…

No, Mum, please.”

Her mother’s voice became calm again.

“Clara, I am not asking you. I am instructing you.”

Clara’s chest rose and fell quickly.

Her phone was under her pillow.

Thomas’s messages were inside it.

His number.

Their secret.

Their only connection.

Clara shook her head.

Her mother’s face changed slightly.

Not anger.

Disappointment.

And that was worse.

Her mother walked closer, bent down, and lifted the pillow.

She found the phone.

Clara’s heart sank so deep it felt like it disappeared.

Her mother held it in her palm and stared at the screen.

Then she looked back at Clara.

“Password.”

Clara’s lips trembled.

“No…”

Her mother sighed.

“Clara, do you want to force me to become the kind of mother you won’t like?”

Tears spilled down Clara’s cheeks.

She whispered the password.

Her mother typed it in effortlessly.

Clara watched as her mother opened her messages.

Scrolled.

And then stopped.

Thomas Jensen.

Clara’s whole body went numb.

Her mother read quietly.

Her face didn’t change.

She only stared, and the silence grew heavier.

Then her mother locked the phone again and placed it in her handbag.

Clara’s voice cracked.

“Mum, please…”

Her mother turned toward the door.

Before leaving, she paused.

“From today,” she said softly, “you will no longer go anywhere without supervision.”

Clara’s eyes widened.

“What…?”

Her mother looked back.

“You will come home immediately after school. You will not attend extra lessons outside. Your driver will pick you and drop you.”

Clara’s throat tightened.

“That’s not fair.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Fair?” she repeated.

She gave a small laugh, almost pitying.

“Clara, fairness is for people who don’t have a family name to protect.”

Then she opened the door.

“And one more thing,” she added without looking back.

“If I ever hear Thomas Jensen’s name from your mouth again… you will regret it.”

The door closed.

Clara sat frozen.

Her freedom was gone.

And she couldn’t even scream.

Because in that house, screaming didn’t change anything.

It only made you look weak.

That night, Clara cried silently into her pillow.

She cried until her chest hurt.

Until her eyes burned.

Until the air-conditioning felt like ice on her skin.

And when she finally fell asleep, she dreamed of Thomas.

He was calling her name.

But no matter how hard she tried to reach him, there was always a wall between them.

A wall made of gold.

The next morning, Clara woke up with swollen eyes.

She dragged herself out of bed and dressed slowly, like her body belonged to someone else.

When she entered the dining room, her parents were already seated.

Her father was reading his newspaper.

Her mother was sipping tea calmly.

Everything looked normal.

As if yesterday had never happened.

Clara sat down quietly.

A maid served her food.

Clara stared at it.

Her appetite was dead.

Her mother spoke without looking up.

“Your driver will pick you up by 2:30 today.”

Clara’s fingers tightened.

Her father finally spoke.

“You will focus on graduation preparations,” he said calmly. “That is all you need to worry about.”

Clara swallowed.

Graduation.

Two weeks to freedom.

Or two weeks to the end.

At school, the compound buzzed again with excitement.

Students laughed loudly, discussing graduation gowns, after-parties, picture frames, and speeches.

Clara walked through them like a ghost.

She didn’t hear their excitement.

She only heard her mother’s voice.

If I ever hear his name again…

When she entered the classroom, she saw Thomas immediately.

He was seated at his usual spot.

But today, he wasn’t writing.

He was staring at the board like his mind wasn’t there.

Then his eyes lifted.

And they met Clara’s.

Thomas’s face changed instantly.

He stood up so quickly his chair scraped the floor.

He walked toward her like he didn’t care who was watching.

“Clara,” he said, voice low. “What happened yesterday?”

Clara’s lips parted.

But no words came out.

Because how could she explain that her own mother had taken her phone like she was a Baby?

How could she tell him her life was now locked?

Thomas’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re shaking,” he whispered.

Clara forced herself to breathe.

“I’m fine,” she lied.

Thomas stared at her.

“You’re not fine.”

Clara glanced around quickly.

Some students were already watching.

Whispering.

Thomas noticed too.

He lowered his voice further.

“They took your phone?”

Clara’s heart dropped.

How did he know?

Her silence answered him.

Thomas’s jaw tightened.

“Clara…” he whispered, voice breaking slightly.

Clara looked down.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Thomas’s eyes softened.

“Don’t say sorry.”

He paused.

Then he leaned closer and spoke carefully.

“Meet me at the library during break.”

Clara’s breath caught.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

Thomas stared at her.

“You can,” he said firmly. “Just five minutes.”

Clara’s chest tightened.

Fear wrapped around her like chains.

But she nodded slightly.

Because she needed to see him.

Even if it was only for five minutes.

During break time, Clara waited until her classmates were distracted.

She walked quickly toward the library.

Her heart pounded so loudly she thought the whole school could hear it.

Inside the library, it was quiet.

Dusty.

Peaceful.

Thomas was already there, standing between the shelves like he had been waiting his whole life.

When Clara entered, his eyes softened immediately.

He walked toward her.

“Clara,” he said.

And the way he said her name made Clara’s throat burn.

Clara whispered, “They took my phone.”

Thomas exhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a moment.

“And they’re watching you now,” he said, not asking.

Clara nodded.

“My dad picks me now,” she whispered. “My mum said I shouldn’t talk to you again.”

Thomas’s expression changed.

Pain crossed his face quickly, but he swallowed it down.

Then he reached into his pocket.

He pulled out a small folded paper.

He held it out to her.

Clara blinked.

“What is this?”

Thomas’s voice was low.

“It’s my number again,” he said. “And my address. And… a promise.”

Clara’s fingers trembled as she collected the paper.

Thomas stepped closer.

His eyes were intense.

“Graduation is close,” he said. “Two weeks.”

Clara nodded, tears in her eyes.

Thomas’s voice softened.

“Hold on for me.”

Clara’s lips trembled.

“I’m trying.”

Thomas swallowed.

“If they take everything from you… don’t let them take your heart too.”

Clara’s tears fell.

She shook her head slowly.

“They already did.”

Thomas’s hand lifted.

He wiped one tear from her cheek with his thumb, gently, like she was made of glass.

“No,” he whispered. “Not yet.”

Clara held the paper tightly in her fist.

Like it was the last thing keeping her alive.

A loud voice suddenly echoed outside.

“Clara Matthews!”

Clara froze.

Thomas’s body stiffened instantly.

Clara’s blood ran cold.

That voice…

It was the school security man.

“Clara Matthews, your Dad is outside!”

Clara’s chest tightened.