Chapter 143

Chapter 143
Ayleen’s POV

The law firm building was quieter at night, the kind of quiet that made everything feel more serious than it needed to be. The lobby lights were dim. The elevator ride was too long.

When I stepped out on her floor, I could already hear faint voices in the distance, a muffled laugh from some late-working staff member. But Clara’s corridor was mostly still, that polished silence that always made me feel like I had to lower my voice even when I wasn’t speaking.

Sofia’s desk was empty, her chair pushed in neatly. I paused for a second, then followed the soft glow of light down the hall to Clara’s office.

Her door was half open.

I knocked anyway.

“Come in,” Clara called without looking up, and her voice had that focus in it, the kind that made my skin tighten with memory.

I stepped inside.

She looked up.

For a second, she just stared at me like her brain couldn’t accept what her eyes were seeing. Her hair was looser than it usually was at work, her suit jacket folded over the back of her chair, sleeves rolled up like she’d been at war with paperwork for hours.

Then her face softened.

Relief. Surprise. Something like happiness fighting through exhaustion.

“Ayleen,” she said, like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to say my name in this setting.

I held up the bags in my hands. “Don’t get excited. I’m here for the food.”

Clara blinked.

Then she laughed quietly, the sound low and rich and so Clara it made my chest ache.

“You came,” she said, softer now.

I crossed the room and set the bags down on her desk, ignoring the way her eyes tracked every movement like she couldn’t look away.

“I told you I would,” I said.

Clara stood. Slowly, like she didn’t want to scare the moment away, and I watched her hesitate for the briefest second before she stepped closer.

Then she kissed my cheek.

Not rushed. Not hidden. The kind of kiss that felt like she was thanking me without words.

“I miss you,” she murmured against my skin.

“I miss you,” I replied. “Now move your files before I spill sauce all over your legal career.”

Clara’s mouth twitched. “You’re already spilling sauce all over my legal career.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Was that supposed to be funny?”

“It was,” she said with a straight face.

"Atleast one of us think you are funny," I teased.

We ended up sitting on the small couch in the corner of her office, the one I’d noticed before but never imagined using. Clara moved the stack of documents off the coffee table, still careful with them even as she tried to pretend she wasn’t.

“Eat,” I said, pushing a container toward her. “No excuses.”

She opened it, took one bite, then closed her eyes like it had physically reset her.

“God,” she murmured. “I forgot what real food tastes like.”

“That’s because you treat your body like it’s optional,” I said, leaning back. “Which is offensive, considering how much effort I put into liking it.”

Clara choked on a laugh.

I felt heat rise to my cheeks, annoyed at myself for flirting so easily, for letting this feel normal. But Clara’s eyes flicked over me with that soft look she got when she was trying to hide how much she adored me, and it only made me bolder.

“You’re smiling, I like your smile," I pointed out.

“I’m not,” she said immediately.

“You are,” I insisted, poking her knee lightly. “You’re smiling because you like that I’m here.”

Clara lifted her brows. “I’m smiling because you’re arrogant.”

I leaned closer. “Same thing.”

Clara’s gaze dropped to my lips.

For a brief second the air shifted, heat stirring between us, not like the hungry, desperate heat from the night before, but something steadier, something intimate.

Then Clara exhaled and looked away, like she was grounding herself again.

I watched her carefully.

“You’re tired,” I said.

“I’m fine,” she replied automatically.

I didn’t let it slide. “You’re not fine. You’re stubborn.”

Clara gave me a look. “And you’re bossy.”

I smiled faintly. “You like that too.”

Her eyes softened again, and she didn’t deny it.

We ate for a while in a comfortable quiet. Not empty. Just calm. The kind of calm I didn’t let myself trust often.