Your Love Is But a Dream

and sat down that he realized why: she had no

Chapter 97

Watching as Clara walked out with a plate of pasta for someone else, Wren felt his heart sink into a pit of bitterness. She used to do these little things for him bringing him cofler during his late nights, cooking meals when he worked himself to exhaustion. But now, her kindness was reserved for someone else.

So this was what it felt like, be thought, watching the person you loved pour their care into someone else. The ache clawed at his chest, and his jealousy bubbled so Bercely that it bordered on madness

And then it hit him- how had she felt all those times he and lvy had flaunted their relationship right in front of her, acting as though she didn’t exist—as though

her feelings didn’t matter?

s his own

own.daling

The realizationtere at him. The pain die felt now was

Clara tumed not long after, not lingering with that man for more than a few ininutes. Not even those brief moments had dragged on for Wren, each second stretching like anetemity,

in,

he reached for the bowl in front of him. He placed a piece of chicken onto her plate, his eyes searching hers.” You used to love my chipotle chicken. Try them. See if they

It was not at all like what she remembered. The last time Wren

forcing herself to smile. “It’s good. Just like before.”

tender, just like his

it. I’ll make it for you more often, I promise.” He added more food to her plate, watching her eat as though her approval was all

of it crushed him–the realization that nothing about them was the same anymore. His hands trembled as

the small room she used as a study. The space was sparse–just a narrow bed and a desk pushed against the wall. She had cleared

love to do for tought,” she said, her voice neutral. “Their sabus to town tomorrow morning. You can catch it and head to

that tightened as he stared at her “You

eyes. “Goodnight,” she said, walking out and shutting the door behind her. The sound of the door clicking shut felt final, like a barrier lockang bom out

The ache in his chest was unbeatable, but when his eyes wandered,

He walked over, besitting as his hand

He knew that whatever was underneath would only bring him more

tug, he pulled the cloth away. What be saw inade lus bratli catch.

not like any of Clara’s work he had seen before. Her once masterful strokes were gone, replaced by uneven lines and

by someone whose hunds no longer obeyed their