Your Love Is But a Dream

Chapter 98

Wren hadn’t slept all night. He spent hours lying in the dark, staring at the ceiling, the weight of his thoughts suffocating him.

As the first rays of light broke through the sky, he got up quietly and headed downstairs. By the time Clara came down, he was already in the kitchen, busying

himself at the stove.

when she saw him, for a fleeting moment, the sight overlapped with an image from her memories—the Wren who used to cook breakfast for her when they were younger Tut just as quicldy, the image blurred and faded.

lowered her gaze, avoiding him.

“You’re up,” Wren said, noticing her the moment she stepped into the room. He quickly timed off the stove and grabbed the pot of oatmeal he’d been simmering, “I made breakfast —cream of mushroom soup and surmy side–ups. If there’s anything else you want, just let me know. I can make it for lunch, too, if you’d like. He placed the pot on the table, ladling a portion into a bowl.

Clara said nothing, her expression distant.

When set the bowl in front of her, a nerves, almost childlike hopefulness on his face. “Here, try it before it gets cold. I know it’s your favorite.” However, she didn’t move. Her gaze shitted to him, steady and wielding.

„– Wren urged, his voice other now. “We can talk after.”

Clara stayed silent for a moment longer before she Imally spoke, her tone calm hat firm. “Wien, you should leave after breakfast.”

down in front of her,

froze. The cheerful facade he’d been trying so hard to maintain cracked, and for a moment, he looked lost, Still, he

talk about this now? just eat,” he said,

unwavering. “Was it guilt or something else?” Wren

the Zachman family, but we both know I don’t belong

She doesn’t want me there, and honestly, I don’t want to go back to the same environment where I have to

justify my existence

wouldn’t be tom between me

softened, but her words hit harder. “When I left, I thought it was i Aunt Joerrina wouldn’t

here now, trying to undo it

the painos face unmistakable. He knew she was right–he had no one to blame but himself

he said finally, his voice hoarse with

put in

tightening. “I won’t marry Ivy:”

make sense; his actions didn’t make sense. “Why?” she asked, her voice steady. “Why now, Wen? After all this time, what’s the point of saying these

Lung int

cutting. When couldn’t answer, not the