Your Love Is But a Dream

Chapter 46

Chapter

46

The rain pounded against the noot, a relentless Hatton that mined the chans in Clara's mind. She reached nut and turned on the light, the warm glow filling the room as she pulled herself out of bed

Crossing the room, she shut the window to blockout the chill. Her eyes fell on the empty and quiet house as she tumed back. Sleep was the last thing on her mind.

Clara grabbed a jacket and slipped it on before stepping out of her bedroom. She walked into the small study across the hall, where a corner was set up with a easel, some paints, and some sketchpads-materials her aunt had sent her just days ago. When the package arrived, Clara immediately understood Katrina's intentions. But her hand.

She clenched her fist instinctively, looking down at it. Slowly, she approached the easel and palled off the cloth draped over it.

She sat down and picked up a paintbrush, dipping it into the colors with practiced ease. Yet, the moment the tip of the brush touched the paper, her hand began to tremble uncontrollably

Flashes of the pain seared into her memory-her wrist pierced by the blade. The phantom ache was so vivid it made her hand spasm. The brush strokes she laid down were jagged and shaky, the lines barely coherent.

Frustration and despair surged through her, and she knocked over the tray of paint, the vibrant colors

her

the weigh much time had passed when a

she thought it was her imagination. But then

pour out

there? Say something if you

froze. Was it

the door. When she opened it, she found Alexander standing outside, rain dripping from his hair and clothes. He looked thoroughly soaked and a

a small step

gaze caught the redness of her eyes and the damp streaks on her cheeks. He paused,

crying?" His voice

away to wipe her face, trying to

her head, "Why

the doors how had he gotten