That hit harder than she expected. Clara’s chest tightened. Her voice lowered. “You know what? Maybe I don’t.” Marc blinked like he’d been slapped. He turned and walked out of the room without another word.
Clara stood there, breathing hard, fists clenched at her sides. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes—but she refused to cry. Not yet. She stared at the open doorway, and that’s when she saw it. Just beyond the edge of the hallway wall, a soft flicker of movement.