89

I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between us. It wasn't just the argument from the night before—those were becoming too frequent, too expected. It was something deeper, a weight pressing against my chest, making it harder to breathe when Clara was near.

She was in the shower now, the sound of running water filling the silence of the apartment. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, my mind a mess of tangled thoughts. I wanted to trust her. I wanted to believe that whatever she was holding back, she would tell me in time. But how much longer could I keep pretending that I was okay with waiting?

The water stopped, and a few moments later, Clara stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her body, steam curling around her like smoke. She caught my gaze, something unreadable flickering in her eyes before she quickly looked away.

"You're up early," she said, her voice carefully neutral as she crossed the room to grab her clothes.

I ran a hand through my hair, sighing. "Didn't sleep much."

Clara nodded but didn't press further. She had gotten too good at that—avoiding the things that made her uncomfortable. And maybe I had gotten too good at letting her.

"Do you have work today?" she asked, her back still to me as she dressed.

"Yeah. Meeting with investors this afternoon. What about you?"

"Meetings, as usual." Her voice was distant, distracted. "I'll probably be home late."

I nodded, even though she couldn't see me. "Okay."

She turned then, her expression carefully composed. "Are you still upset about last night?"

I hesitated, unsure of how to answer. Was I upset? Or just tired? "I just want to understand, Clara. I don’t want to fight."

Something flickered in her gaze—something that looked almost like guilt. "I know."

But she didn't say anything else. No explanation. No reassurance. Just those two words that meant nothing and everything at the same time.

She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my temple before grabbing her bag and walking out of the room. A minute later, I heard the front door close.

And just like that, she was gone.

The meeting dragged on longer than expected, the voices around me blending into background noise as I checked my phone for the hundredth time. No messages from Clara. Not that I had expected any.

I forced myself to focus, nodding at the right moments, making the necessary agreements. But the truth was, my mind was somewhere else entirely.

By the time I got home, the apartment was dark. Clara still wasn’t back.

I sat on the couch, staring at my phone, debating whether to call her. Would she even answer? Or would she send me straight to voicemail like she had done before when she needed space?

I didn't get the chance to decide.

The door opened, and Clara walked in, her expression unreadable as she set her bag down and slipped off her shoes.

"Hey," she said, like nothing was wrong.

"Hey."

She hesitated for a second before walking over and sitting beside me. "Long day?"

"Yeah. You?"

She nodded. "Exhausting."

Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy.

Finally, I exhaled. "Clara, I don’t want to keep doing this."

She turned to me, her brows drawing together. "Doing what?"

"Pretending that everything is fine when we both know it’s not."

Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t look away. "What do you want me to say?"

"The truth." My voice was quieter now. "Whatever it is you're not telling me."

Clara swallowed, something dark flashing in her eyes. "You think it’s that simple? That I can just open up and suddenly everything will be okay?"

"I think we can’t keep running from this. Whatever 'this' is."

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "It’s not that I don’t trust you, Bela. It’s that I don’t trust myself."

I stared at her, heart pounding. "What does that even mean?"

Clara closed her eyes for a moment before looking at me again. "It means I don’t know if I’m capable of being what you need me to be."

My chest ached at her words. "Clara."

"No." She shook her head. "I love you. But love isn’t enough, is it?"

I swallowed hard. "It should be."

Her eyes softened, and for a second, I thought she might finally let me in. But then she pulled away, standing up. "I need some air."

I watched her walk to the balcony, the cold night air sweeping in as she opened the door and stepped outside.

I wanted to follow her. To make her see that she didn’t have to do this alone.

But I didn’t. Because, for the first time, I wasn’t sure if she wanted me to.