Natasha kept the conversation flowing, hoping to fill the heavy silence that weighed between them. She spoke about inconsequential things, the weather, memories of Grandma’s smile, anything she thought might soothe Clara's sorrow. But no matter how hard she tried to keep her friend distracted, the question gnawing at her couldn’t be ignored any longer.
Finally, she decided to ask, though she tread cautiously, knowing how fragile Clara was.
"Clara, will you inform Mitchell about it?" Natasha asked quietly, tilting her head as she studied her friend.
Clara froze, sitting with her hands folded on her lap. Her head tilted slightly, her expression puzzled.
"About what?" she asked, her voice flat and devoid of energy.
"About Grandma’s demise," Natasha clarified, choosing her words carefully
