Your Love Is But a Dream

Chapter 287

Clara had asked Wren for help before, but after not knitting for so long, she had become quite rusty. Clara lowered her gaze, hiding the faint emotion in her eyes, and folded the scarf before placing it into the glove compartment bag. She then began to pack her things.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Clara walked over and opened it.

Wren stood outside, holding a thermos. When he saw it was Clara who opened the door, he smiled slightly. "Why aren't you sleeping a bit longer?"

Clara shook her head and looked at Wren. "I saw the scarf you knitted. It's beautiful. Thank you."

Wren's smile deepened, thinking she was referring to the one he had given her. He reached up and patted her head. "I'm glad you like it. I made you breakfast. After you're done, I'll handle your discharge paperwork."

Clara wanted to pull away from his touch, but Wren quickly retracted his hand, noticing her reluctance. A hint of melancholy flashed in his eyes.

"Come on in," Wren said, smiling bitterly as he suppressed the disappointment in his heart.

"Alright."

Clara ignored the sadness in his expression and turned to walk back inside.

table. "Eat something first. I'll help you pack up. After you're done, you can take care

pack up myself later,"

a smile, looking at her helplessly. "Clara, do you really want to keep distancing yourself from me like this? You used to let me take

Clara said calmly. "I don't need you to do these things for me

breath hitched, and he lowered his gaze, hiding the sorrow in his eyes. He bitterly said, "Alright, I

face, her heart jolted. She quickly turned her gaze away, offering an excuse,

that, she grabbed her toiletries

ache in his eyes. He had stayed up all night, showered when he got home, and immediately started preparing breakfast without resting.

that morning, there

circles under his eyes.

Clara would have

let out a bitter

to pull the chair next to the bed, his gaze suddenly landed on something on

had placed there was just as he had

was nowhere to

for Clara was meant to be hers. Yet, she

of sorrow