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.

she knocked over the tray

out her cries, giving her a fleeting sense of privacy, a

time had passed when a knock

was her imagination. But then she heard

pour out unchecked. She had no idea

in there? Say something

Was

hair and clothes. He looked thoroughly soaked and a little disheveled. "How did you get is?" she asked,

a small step

His sharp gaze caught the redness of her eyes and the damp streaks on her cheeks.

His voice

turned away to wipe her face, trying to regalus

shaking her head, "Why are

locked the doors how had he gotten