Clara sat at her desk, her fingers gliding swiftly over the keyboard, the glow from the screen casting sharp shadows on her face. To anyone watching, she appeared calm, focused. But inside, her mind was a battlefield of thoughts and emotions.
This wasn’t the same Clara from before.
The warmth she once carried had faded. Now, all that remained was a cold, calculating resolve.
Her eyes flickered with something dark as she worked, drowning herself in lines of text on the screen. She remembered how, as a child, she used to sit beside her father, fascinated by the way his fingers danced over the keyboard. She would mimic him, pressing random keys, giggling when he praised her for trying.
Now, she was typing just as fast as he once did. But this time, her motivation was far from innocent.
R
