The afternoon sun bled gold through the sheer curtains of Claire’s apartment. The quiet was heavy—too heavy for a woman like Claire, who had once filled this space with laughter and music and the easy, unfiltered conversations she used to share with Brad Hilton.
Now, it was just silence.
Until the knock.
It came cautiously, like the person on the other side already feared the outcome.
Claire paused, her eyes narrowing. She wasn’t expecting anyone.
When she opened the door, her breath hitched.
Brad.
His hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d run his hands through it one too many times. His jaw was tight, his mouth pressed into a line that said this wasn’t a visit he wanted to make, but one he knew he had to.
"Claire," he said quietly.
Her posture stiffened immediately. “What do you
