A Different Kind of Fear
The first sign was the tiredness. Clara noticed it on a Monday morning. She woke up later than usual, even though she had gone to bed early the night before. Her body felt heavy, as if she had not slept at all. She sat up slowly and rubbed her face. The bedroom was quiet. Sunlight slipped through the curtains, casting soft lines across the floor. Michael had already left for work. A small note rested on the bedside table. Breakfast in the kitchen. Don’t skip it this time. Clara smiled faintly. Things between them had been calmer since their talk at the café. Not perfect. But peaceful. They spoke more carefully now, choosing their words instead of reacting too quickly. The house felt warmer again. Still, the tiredness stayed with her. She stood up, stretched her arms, and wal
- Writer
