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. But just as quickly, the image blurred and faded. Clara lowered her gaze, avoiding him. "You're up," Wren said, noticing her the moment she stepped into the room. He quickly turned off the stove and grabbed the pot of oatmeal he'd been simmering. "I made breakfast—cream of mushroom soup and sunny 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 dist