Chapter 1
1200 Words
The funeral was over, but nobody seemed interested in leaving.
People still crowded the Laurent estate in expensive black clothes, speaking in lowered voices that sounded respectful until you listened long enough to realize most of them were gossiping.
Clara had stayed longer than she wanted to. Long enough to speak to Mrs. Laurent.
Long enough to stand near a coffin she still could not believe belonged to the same man who once slipped her extra dessert after Adrian got into an argument with half the dinner table.
Long enough to start feeling like she could not breathe properly anymore.
So she left. Or at least, she tried to.
The side hallway leading toward the back entrance was quieter than the front of the house.
Clara pushed open the door and almost walked straight into someone.
The impact never happened.
A hand caught the door before it hit fully.
She looked up. And stopped breathing.
Adrian.
For one humiliating second, her body forgot how to function.
Because there he was, standing too close.
Close enough to notice he had cut his hair shorter. Close enough to smell rain and expensive cologne and something painfully familiar she had spent five years trying not to miss.
Clara forgot what she was supposed to say. He looked different.
Not softer. Life had done the opposite. Something about him felt harder now. Like grief had worn him down until only the dangerous parts stayed standing.
His black shirt sleeves were rolled slightly. Tie loosened. Expression unreadable.
Even exhausted, he still had the kind of presence that made people move around him carefully. And then recognition crossed his face instantly.
He knew exactly who she was.
But whatever reaction she expected, whether shock, anger or bitterness, never came.
Instead, Adrian looked tired.
Tired enough that the absence of emotion somehow hurt more.
“Well,” he said after a second, voice rougher than she remembered, “Five years and you still almost run me over.”
Clara blinked.
“What?”
“You nearly walked into me.” His mouth twitched once, but it disappeared quickly. “Feels very on brand.”
And somehow, that tiny bit of dry sarcasm almost made her cry.
Because it sounded like him. Still him. Her throat tightened painfully.
“Hi,” she said, immediately hating herself.
Hi?
Really?
Adrian leaned lightly against the doorframe.
“Hi.”
The familiarity of it hit harder than expected.
Nobody should be allowed to sound normal after disappearing for five years.
Silence stretched awkwardly between them.
Clara looked away first.
“I’m sorry about your dad.”
His expression shifted.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Me too.”
Her jaw tightened. Because suddenly this started feeling horribly real.
His father was dead. And for the first time in her life, Adrian looked tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep.
Clara hated herself for noticing.
“You okay?”
The question escaped before she could stop it, which made something unreadable cross Adrian’s face.
“You really want the honest answer to that?”
The quietness of it caught her off guard.
She hesitated.
“Yes.”
He looked at her for a second.
Then laughed once under his breath.
“No,” he said. “I’m not.”
“I tried calling,” she said quietly.
His jaw tightened once. Eyes moving away from her briefly before coming back.
“I know.”
The answer came too quickly.
Her chest tightened.
“You knew?”
“I saw them.”
“Then why didn’t you answer?”
Adrian looked away.
“I was in a hospital.”
He laughed once under his breath.
“Some days I could barely remember my own name, Clara.”
The sentence landed so cleanly she forgot how to breathe for a brief second.
“I know you got hurt.”
“No, you don’t. You know there was an accident. That’s what you know.” He looked at her then, finally, and for the first time there was something similar to hurt in his face. “You don’t know anything after that.”
Clara looked away too quickly, because he was right.
She knew rumors, then suddenly he was gone abroad.
And every call after that disappeared into silence.
“You shut me out,” she said quietly.
For a second, Adrian just looked at her. Then something bitter flickered briefly.
“I barely had my head together,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t ignoring you to be cruel.”
The honesty in it made her go still.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
And this time she meant everything. The fight. The accident. His father. The years.
All of it.
Adrian rubbed briefly at his temple,almost absentmindedly, then stopped.
“You’ve said that twice now.”
“I’m serious,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
Something almost softened in him.
A voice echoed faintly from inside the house.
Someone was looking for him but he ignored it.
Clara glanced toward the hallway.
“You should probably go back.”
“I don’t think we are done here.”
“What else are we supposed to say?” she asked quietly
“You disappeared too,” Adrian said suddenly.
The words caught her off guard.
“What?”
“You stopped calling.”
Clara stared at him.
“I called for months.”
“You stopped.”
“You never answered. Why would I keep on calling?”
His jaw shifted once.
“Eventually,” he said quietly, “I figured you got tired of waiting.”
The sentence hit harder than anything else so far.
Because underneath all the distance was the Adrian she broke.
Before she could answer, loud voices drifted from somewhere inside the hallway.
The sound made something in Adrian visibly tighten.
His shoulders stiffened slightly.
Jaw harder now.
Like irritation arrived all at once.
“You okay?” Clara asked quietly.
He exhaled once through his nose.
“Too much noise.”
She almost laughed from disbelief. She could not remember Adrian Laurent ever admitting something was wrong.
Then suddenly, he stopped talking.
One hand lifted briefly toward his temple.
His eyes shut for one second.
Two.
Like he was waiting for something inside himself to settle.
When he opened them again, irritation flashed briefly across his face.
Clara frowned. This wasn’t normal.
Adrian Laurent had never looked fragile a day in his life. Without thinking, she stepped closer.
“Adrian…”
“Don’t.”
He straightened slowly,looked at her once,then away again.
“You don’t get to look worried,” he said quietly.
The sentence stung more than it should have.
He started walking. Actually walking away.
And Clara hated herself enough to follow one step.
“Adrian…”
He stopped, but didn't turn around.
For a second, she thought he would keep walking.
Instead, he said quietly,
“You know the stupid part?”
Her throat tightened.
“What?”
A short laugh left him. Tired. Humourless.
“I still checked my phone.”
Then he walked away before she could say the one thing that might have stopped him.
- Writer
