(Clara)
I should have felt better after talking to Callum.
That was probably the most frustrating part.
The conversation had helped.
Objectively, it had helped.
The pressure sitting on my chest no longer felt quite as heavy, the conference no longer felt like an approaching execution, and for the first time in days, I had managed to go several hours without imagining every possible way my future could collapse.
Those things should have been enough.
Unfortunately, they weren’t.
Because now I had a completely different problem.
Callum Hart.
Again.
The realization followed me all the way home.
It followed me through dinner.
It followed me into the shower.
It followed me into bed.
And by the following morning, it was still there.
Persistent.
Annoying.
Impossible to ignore.
I
