“You’re paranoid, Clara. You’ve been paranoid for weeks,” he said. “You let some these thoughts poison your head, and now it’s festered into whatever you’re doing now.” “I’m chasing the truth!” she shouted. “Because something is off, and I’m tired of pretending it’s all in my head!”
Their voices rose, sharp and bitter, crashing into each other. The tension that had built for weeks before was now fire between them—raw and wild. And then, from the hallway, a small voice broke through the chaos like glass.