Chapter 85

Wren's expression flickered with disappointment, but he quickly forced a weak smile, not wanting to upset Clara or risk their fragile truce. He nodded, his voice soft, saying, "Okay, whatever you say, Clara. Let's eat first." Dinner passed in near-total silence, with the only sounds in the room being the clinking of cutlery. The tension was thick, and the air was heavy with unspoken words. When the meal ended, Alexander started to gather the plates, but Wren abruptly stood, beating him to it. His movements were swift and determined as he cleared the table. Clara opened her mouth to stop him, but the words caught in her throat. "Wren, just leave them on the counter," she finally said, following him into the kitchen. "I'll wash them later." "Clara," Wren said with a small, almost paternal smile. "You shouldn't have to do this. You know how important your hands are. Let me take care of it." His voice carried a warmth and tenderness that made Clara freeze. For a split sec