Forgotten Wife My Ex-Husband Regrets It After I Left (Clara and Liam) novel Chapter 284

Sienna’s POV

I nearly choked on my own breath. “T-this afternoon?”

“If not, tomorrow works too.”

I blinked several times, trying to process it.

A well-known illustrator rumored to be closed-off and selective with projects was offering two time options without hesitation?

Was he always this fast?

Or had Liam said something beforehand?

I didn’t know. But one thing was clear, I couldn’t sound uncertain in front of someone this professional.

I glanced at the wall clock. It was still morning. I could prepare a draft of ideas and some concept notes before the afternoon.

“This afternoon works,” I finally said, my voice steady despite my racing heart. “Where should we meet?”

“I have a small studio in the city center. I’ll send you the address by message. Three o’clock?”

“Three o’clock,” I repeated.

“Okay.” His voice sounded like a final decision. “I’ll be waiting. See you later.”

Click.

The call ended immediately.

I stood frozen for a few seconds, phone still in my hand.

Then, slowly, a hesitant smile formed on my lips. ” actually managed to call him?”

Just as I was about to let out a relieved breath, a message notification came in.

From Rudolf’s number.

The studio address. Short. Precise. No emojis. No small talk.

I couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “So the rumors about him being cold are true.”

I stood and walked into the kitchen. The house was still just as quiet, but now the silence felt different, not empty, but expectant. I poured water into the electric kettle and turned it on. While waiting, I opened the refrigerator, staring inside without really seeing anything. In the end, I grabbed an apple and some yogurt, something light. I wasn’t fully hungry, maybe because my mind was already full of possibilities.

I sat at the dining table, biting into the apple slowly. In my head, the outline of the concept kept spinning:

atmosphere, colors, the emotions I wanted to capture on the book cover. I imagined the illustration coming alive, not just beautiful, but honest. I typed a few keywords into my phone: quiet, hope, fragile but enduring. They feltright.

I went back to the workspace. This time, I reopened the notebook and organized the pages I had written. I summarized everything neatly: the purpose of the book, the readers I envisioned, the emotional tone I wanted to leave behind after the final page. I didn’t want to look like someone arriving with nothing but vague dreams. I wanted to come with direction.

I paused in front of the large mirror in the hallway. I looked at my own reflection. My hair fell simply over my shoulders, my face free of heavy makeup. I didn’t want to look like a writer trying to look smart. I wanted to look like myself neat enough, confident enough.

The clock showed it was almost noon. I prepared a simple lunch of warm rice and a quick stir-fry of vegetables.

While eating, my thoughts drifted back to the upcoming meeting.

To the small studio in the city center. To a man named Rudolf whose face I still hadn’t seen. There was nervous anticipation, but it wasn’t paralyzing. It felt more like a gentle push from behind, urging me to step forward.

After lunch, I washed the dishes and prepared my bag.

Notebook. Pens, my favorite one included. Phone. Wallet. I slipped Rudolf’s business card into the front pocket of my bag, easy to reach, easy to remember. I checked the time once more.