Adrian had always believed clarity solved most problems. If you understood the variables, you could control the outcome. But with Elara, clarity only revealed how much was at stake.
He found himself distracted, replaying her expressions, her hesitation, the way she had pulled back slightly after the kiss—as if afraid of wanting too much.
During a client dinner, Mara sat beside him, watching him drift.
"You're losing her," she said quietly.
Adrian frowned. "I don't know that I ever had her."
"That's the problem," Mara replied. "You're treating love like permission instead of choice."
Her words followed him home.
The next day, Elara overheard a conversation she hadn't meant to hear—two colleagues speculating about Adrian's return to London and whether Mara would go with him. The assumption landed like a blow.
That evening, when Adrian tried to speak to her, Elara snapped.
"You don't owe me explanations," she said. "You never did."
"But I want to give you one," he replied.
She shook her head. "Wanting isn't the same as choosing."
The argument ended unresolved, both retreating into old defenses. Jealousy and fear twisted into silence, and silence grew into distance.