Clara Carter

A jolt of anxiousness laced with a tinge of happiness fills my thoughts. Should I go there?

Will he be there?

I don't even know if he's ready to see me. And I don't think it's a good idea to drive through the city in search of the café Charlie mentioned. Charlie's visit to the repair shop where I work, he said, is a coincidence.

He calls it coincidence; I call it fate.

I look for the address Charlie gave me, wishing I could get rid of all this growing anxiety. Stefan, he explained, is coming here for a business meeting.

Who the hell holds a business meeting in a café?

I shake my head and look up to find the similarly described building in front of me. Killing the engine, I let the sudden silence created in the car and muffled conversations of pedestrians work its way to my ears.

My palms begin to sweat, as does the façade I put on to appear casual and unbothered.

A sleek black Bentley pulls up to the curb next to the café's entrance. Awareness spreads through me, my eyes focused on the car.

Even with tens of meters between us, I zoom in on the person-hard to miss-stepping out.

The man in the pitch-black three-piece suit with a white shirt underneath the black waistcoat is impossible to miss.

The definition of my insanity stands a few meters from me.

I lean back in my seat, gripping the steering wheel tightly to narrow my feelings.

He looks divine with his long strands of hair caressing his collar. The perfect blend of muscles and intensity of gaze demands attention.

He says something to the driver while holding the door open, then turns to face the back seat and extends his hand to someone inside.

My car is parked at such a perfect angle and spot that no one gives a damn about it.

My stomach knots as I catch a ghost of a smile on his face. Who's inside the car?

I can't see anything beyond the door and Stefan's face since his car is facing me.

A small sandy-haired boy steps out, carrying a small backpack on his shoulders.

My breath catches in my throat. The boy looks oddly familiar, though I can't put my finger on it. The way Stefan's poker face switches to a smile just for the boy makes my heart ache even more.

The car door closes, allowing me to get a better look at Stefan and the boy holding his hand.

Who is this boy?

The air in my lungs leaves in a rush as a possibility of this sandy-haired boy being Stefan's son comes to my mind.

No, no, no. That can't be possible. Stefan can't be the father.

But what if he is?

My brain is weirdly against my beliefs, thrusting this thought of 'Stefan has moved on, he has a family' on me.

I catch the boy's wondering eyes through my open window. He tilts his head and smiles at me.

I stiffen, too shocked to respond to the innocent eyes staring at me.

On any other day, I would have smiled and made funny faces to amuse the kid. But not today, not when the boy might be the son of my ex-boyfriend.

I shift my gaze to Stefan. He's on his phone, his sharp eyes darting everywhere, holding the boy's hand tightly.

I want to run into his arms-those safe, protecting, and powerful arms that he used to wrap around me. Hug him tight, so tight that I believe he's actually here.

Stefan finds me. From the distance between us, he finds me staring at him through the mass of an unconcerned crowd. As if he sensed me, my presence.

His lips stop moving, stops talking over the call as he looks at me. Nothing-not a single line-on his beautiful, godly face changes. He shows no emotion, no recognition. He just looks at me.

A huge white box truck drives between us, obstructing our vision. That sends a flash of realization through me that I've been staring at him without blinking. I didn't blink because I wanted to be sure he was real and not my imagination.

I seize the opportunity to start my car and drive back to where I came from. To my astonishment, I don't give him another glance.

Several cars pass by, but none of them drive with the same fierceness as me. With each meter I leave behind, the street shrinks narrower, but my primary focus is on getting home safely.

Safely. Why does that word has grown on me so much?

Few more saves of the day despite my rough driving, I pull up in front of my apartment building and waste no time to catch the elevator that is about to close.

The lady inside gives me a thorough inspection with her experienced eyes, which I couldn't care less about.

I bite my lower lip as tears spring up in my eyes and exit the elevator on my floor.

Why hadn't I heard anything about a boy in Stefan's life in the media? Was Stefan trying to keep him a secret?

With shaking hands, I unlock the door to my apartment, dropping the keys a few times before getting it correctly.

"Surprise!"

I would have fallen on my butt if it hadn't been for the door I was clutching for dear life. Mom, Dad, and Christopher are standing in front of me, flashing their million-dollar smiles at my about-to-cry face.

What's the matter with people breaking into my apartment without my permission?

Why did I leave the spare key to my house at my neighbor's?

Nobody gives me the opportunity to welcome them into my home.

"What are you doing here?"

"You don't like spending time with us in Aerilon, so we thought we might all celebrate Christmas together this year here!" mom says, coming forward to hug me but stops midway. She scans my messed-up appearance-my dirty clothes covered in black dust, grease, and everything else she's never seen me coated in.

Dad looks at me from behind mom, his aging face displaying a pleasant smile of home and comfort.

"I'll go and get a quick shower." Sniffing and stroking the back of my palm across my jaw, I say. "Make yourself at home."

I smile at dad and Christopher, happy that they made time out of their busy schedules for me.

"Sure thing," mom speaks again, "come out quickly, we have something to tell you."

"Better be something good." I murmur and shut the door behind me.

"Oh, you bet." My brother replies, winking at me from he's sprawled on the couch.

I would have held my middle finger at him, but not in front of our parents. Especially not when I'm about to cry myself on the pillow.

Stefan's face, his stone-cold expression, and the young boy all still fresh in my mind, torturing at me.

My mind immediately began tearing through Stefan's memories, every word he said that I remembered, everything I saw in his house. Nothing gave the impression that he might have a life that I was completely unaware of the entire time.

Surely, he wouldn't keep confidential documents from his father's business and evidence of his sister's deeds in his house for a stranger like me to see.

Should I ask Christopher about it?

But then, he doesn't know where Mae is half the time, how is he meant to know about Stefan's life?

Before slipping into my baggy cargo trousers and crop top, I light a cigarette and take a drag. I make myself comfortable on my bed, preparing to walk outside to prove to my parents that I'm happy.

I had no business going there in the first place. What was I expecting? That Stefan would fall head over heels for me and say those beautiful things he used to say to me?

I tap my foot impatiently as I exhale the smoke through clenched teeth.

I hear a knock on the door. "Who's there?"

"It's me." Christopher answers. I asked because I would have to throw my cigarette out the window if it was my mom or dad.

"Come in." he steps slowly into my room and locks the door behind me. I don't see him enter since I'm facing the door with my back to it. The bed dips with weight as I assume him sitting down behind me.

A small, soft hand taps my shoulder.

Frowning, I turn around.

My actions come to an abrupt stop.

The same boy I saw with Stefan is smiling back at me.