"You’re early," Clara said, sliding into the seat across from him. She looked exactly the same, yet entirely different. Her hair was shorter, and the sharp lines of a corporate coat had replaced the paint-stained cardigans he remembered.
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She reached across the table, squeezing his hand one last time. There was no spark of electricity—just a warm, grounded sense of closure. "You’re early," Clara said, sliding into the seat
As the rain tapered off, Clara checked her watch. The London flight was in four hours. "Are we okay?" she asked, her voice small. " Clara said
"Habit," Elias replied, finally meeting her eyes. "You’re exactly on time. Also a habit."