Chapter 41: Dawn Light Filtered Through the Curtains

Dawn light filtered through the curtains as Clara Whitmore finished her morning run, water droplets still clinging to her hair. She towel-dried her locks while stepping onto the balcony when a splash of pink caught her eye among the succulents.

The plump little plant unfurled like a flower in the morning glow. She couldn't resist brushing a fingertip against its velvety leaves.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table.

The name "Mason Reed" flashing on the screen made her arch an eyebrow. He rarely called at this hour.

"Hello?"

"Clara!" Mason's voice carried an exaggerated, hushed sweetness. "What've you been up to lately?"

"Same old." She continued drying her hair. "Why do you sound weird?"

He seized the opportunity. "Ugh, don't ask. Drank too much at last night's client dinner. My stomach's killing me." A deliberate pause. "Suddenly craved your nourishing porridge..."

She chuckled. "That's it?"

"I swear! Just the thought of takeout makes me nauseous. Only your cooking can save me now." His dramatic whine bordered on comical. "Please?"

She checked the wall clock. Though ninety percent certain this was an act, it had been a while.

"Fine. I'll grab ingredients later." She feigned sternness. "But if you're faking..."

"Cross my heart! I'm dying here!" he vowed. "Can I swing by at noon?"

Hanging up, Clara shook her head. Mason's terrible acting skills practically screamed he was running errands for someone.

* * *

Noon sunlight beat down mercilessly. Mason followed his GPS through winding alleys before finally spotting the apartment building near the old campus.

Wiping sweat, he squinted at unit numbers. The place was hidden like a deliberate secret—no wonder a certain someone had failed to "accidentally" bump into her all these years.

Mason parked his car outside the aging residential complex.

He walked through the dappled shade of the tree-lined path, stepping over cracked concrete, until he spotted the dingy apartment building.

"Seventh floor...no elevator..." He swallowed hard as he looked up at the precarious balcony railings.

Five minutes later.

Leaning against the wall, he gasped for breath, his dress shirt soaked through with sweat.

The door opened.

Clara handed him a glass of water. "You okay?"

He drained the glass in one gulp. "Your place is...hard to find, Clara." He bit back the word "shabby."

"Quiet." She turned to retrieve a thermal container from the kitchen. "Eat while it's hot. Be careful."

The moment she lifted the lid, rich aromas filled the air.

Mason's eyes lit up. "No wonder Grant's been craving this."

"Thank him for me." Clara busied herself with her bag. "I need to head out."

He hesitated, words stuck in his throat.

"Let's go." She'd already pressed the elevator button.

Only their footsteps echoed in the stairwell.

The moment the sports car's engine faded into the distance, Clara dropped her polite smile.

Those unspoken words? She'd stopped wanting to hear them long ago.

Hospital corridor.

Mason thumped the thermal container onto the bedside table. "Your lunch delivery, Grant."

Grant's fingers stilled mid-motion.