Chapter 7 You're Coming Home With Me

"The cancer has begun to move beyond its original site, and the stress she's gone through has only made things worse. The best option now is to admit her right away. As her friend, you need to stay close to keep her calm, because any more emotional stress could really put her at risk," said the doctor.

Alan's brow creased as worry settled on his face. "I get it, doctor. I'll do what needs to be done."

--

Clara had no idea how much time had passed. When she finally opened her eyes, she found herself staring at a stark white ceiling, the harsh smell of antiseptic heavy in the air.

As she tried to push herself upright, she noticed that someone was holding her hand tightly.

"Clara, thank goodness you're awake! Are you feeling alright? Do you want me to get the doctor?" asked Alan, his face lined with exhaustion and nerves.

She looked at him, bewildered. "Alan, what are you doing here?"

She could still remember collapsing at the gate of the cemetery. Somehow, Alan must have found her and brought her to the hospital.

"I showed up just in time. Who knows what would have happened if I hadn't come for you," said Alan, doing his best to sound upbeat, but there was a clear edge of worry in his tone.

Clara dropped her gaze, the memory of Declan's harsh words and the ruined birthday cake rising up as she drifted back into the moment when she fainted.

A sad smile tugged at her lips as she spoke quietly. "Someone like me... if I disappeared, nobody would notice. It wouldn't make any difference to anyone..."

"Stop talking like that," said Alan, his gaze locked onto hers. "I can't speak for anyone else, but I've always been here for you, Clara. I've been in love with you longer than you realize."

The confession hung between them, and for a moment, Clara just stared, her mouth slightly open, completely thrown by his words.

"Clara!" Someone called her name from the doorway, breaking the silence with a sharp jolt.

Clara glanced over, and a flicker of hurt passed through her reddened eyes.

Lorraine strolled in, holding Declan's hand, her smile bright and knowing. Declan walked at her side, his face cold and distant.

He looked at Clara with those dark, unfathomable eyes, cold as a winter night.

Clara couldn't help but notice how Lorraine's hand fit easily into Declan's, a bitter taste rising in her mouth as she bit her lip harder.

"Did we walk in on something?" Lorraine asked with a sly grin, her gaze bouncing between Clara and Alan. "I guess that explains why you refused to go on blind dates, Clara. Turns out, your heart already belongs to someone."

Lorraine nudged Declan, her tone playful. "Looks like you can stop worrying about Clara, Declan. She's found her knight in shining armor. She won't be knocking on your door for help anymore."

Declan's jaw tightened, and his eyes turned icy as he stared at Clara and Alan. His hands clenched at his sides.

"That's not..." Clara tried to protest, but her voice gave out, and the words faded away, leaving only sadness and pain behind.

Explaining herself seemed pointless when Declan didn't care about her at all.

Her silence only seemed to irritate Declan more. With a chill in his voice, he asked, "So, when did you get yourself a boyfriend? Was it supposed to be a secret from me?"

Clara's whole body shook as she pressed her lips into a tight line, unwilling to speak.

Spotting the sudden paleness in her face, Alan stepped forward, placing himself squarely between her and Declan. "She's just barely awake, Mr. Curtis. If you've got something to say, you'll have to wait until she's up for it."

Declan's glare hardened. His voice dropped cold. "I'm not talking to you."

Alan's jaw tensed. He understood perfectly well that Declan saw him as nothing more than an outsider, someone who didn't belong in this moment.

"Clara, answer me," said Declan, refusing to look at Alan as his eyes locked on Clara's.

For a second, Clara bit her lip so hard it nearly drew blood. She lifted her head, her words barely holding back a flood of emotion. "I'm old enough to make my own choices. If I want a boyfriend, that's my business. I don't need your approval, do I?"

Defiance flickered in her eyes as she met his gaze, but after a moment, she turned away, calm and resolute.

Irritation surged through Declan, and his anger took over, burning in his eyes.

He closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, his hand clamping around her wrist. Every word that left his lips sounded like a warning. "Clara, who do you think you are, talking to me like that? You're coming home with me. Now."

Pain shot up her arm as she tried to wriggle free. "I'm not going anywhere with you! Let me go!"

But Declan refused to budge, yanking her toward him until Alan's hand shot out and grabbed his arm, stopping him cold.

"Mr. Curtis, you heard her. Clara isn't leaving with you, so you need to let her go," said Alan, his eyes steady, determined to shield Clara.

Declan stood frozen, his face a storm of rage, but he didn't move an inch further.

Without waiting another second, Clara slipped out of his grip, turning her back to him.

Declan's voice rang out, deep and unyielding. "Are you sure about this? You're really not coming home with me?"