The restaurant was quiet when I walked in.
It was the same place Clara and I used to visit years ago, back when everything between us was simple and our friendship had no strings attached.
She chose our old corner—the table by the window. The building was completely empty. No customers, no waiters, just soft lighting and the faint smell of fresh meals from the kitchen.
She had booked the entire place.
I almost smiled. Classic Clara. Always dramatic.
She sat exactly where we used to sit. When she saw me, she waved, her smile bright and hopeful, like I might not notice the only person in the room.
I walked over and pulled out the chair opposite her. “You booked the whole restaurant?”
She shrugged, still smiling. “I wanted it to be just us. Just like old times.” “But come to think of
