The next morning, Kieran couldn’t stop thinking about Clara. He was used to distractions—business meetings, appointments, decisions—but this felt different. It wasn’t urgent, it wasn’t dramatic. It was just… her. The way she had talked about her studio, the calm in her voice, the simplicity of her movements. It stuck with him.
He sat at his desk, staring at his coffee, letting the steam rise. Normally, he would have already checked emails, made calls, organized the day. But today, he was replaying their conversation in the café. How she had smiled faintly, not the kind of forced social smile people gave, but something small, genuine.
He realized he wanted to see her again. Not for anything more than the conversation itself, the quiet comfort of it. But even that thought made his chest ti
