Following Clara closely, lan's face was a mask of concern. He rubbed her back gently as they made their way to the bathroom. He asked, "What's wrong, love? Have you been overworking yourself lately? Skipping meals? Maybe we should head to the hospital, just to be safe?"

Hunched over the toilet, Clara heaved a few times, but nothing came up. Her eyes were bloodshot from the effort. She gave her head a slight shake. "I'm okay. I just need some Pepto-Bismol, and I'll be fine." lan wasn't convinced. His large hand came to rest on her forehead, feeling for a fever. "I'm calling the doctor over. I can't relax seeing you like this."

"It's just an old stomach issue, nothing new. A bowl of hot chicken noodle soup should set me right," Clara insisted.

From the doorway, Casey appeared, drawn by the commotion. "Clara, what's all this about? You're not—"

health all too well. There was little chance she'd conceive even after three months with

with a pale face, forcing a smile for her

some. Ian, could you grab the

Let me just help Clara

heading to the kitchen. He was busy fetching plates, ladling soup, and serving with a diligence that made Clara feel almost guilty for his fussing. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh

a face full of guilt, his voice tinged with an unspoken sorrow. "I'm so sorry for the hurt this has

liked lan and believed he was the right match for

it's different. Clara must be blaming herself, thinking Reed could have lived longer. Your mother's words

knew that if Clara left lan, it would break

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