The CEO's Regret: Darling, Don’t Leave Me novel Chapter 135

Chapter 99: Like in the old days.

Ethan

I’m sitting in my office, looking at the numbers on the computer screen… but I’m not seeing anything at all.

My mind is elsewhere, on Clara. Since last night, the feeling hasn’t left my chest.

To have held her in my arms again, to have felt her skin, her breathing.

Her way of pronouncing my name…

I close my eyes for a moment and lean my back against the chair. I might think that after what happened last night… I have advanced, that we took an important step. But the truth is different, know I can still lose her.

Clara did not return to me, she did not return to my life completely. She only allowed me to go in a little… again. And I know how fragile that space is.

A false move, a misspoken word. And everything can disappear.

I run a hand over my face, thoughtful.

What can I do to get her back completely? The question has been in my head for days.

I have tried patience, I have tried to approach her without pressuring her. But I still feel like I’m walking on a very thin rope.

My fingers gently tap the desk, then an idea pops up. Simple, yet powerful.

What if I bring her home?

My gaze slowly lifts home. The place where it all began, the place that was hers.

A part of me would like her to come back… to stay… As before, as it should always be, but I know that this will not happen from one day to the next.

So I’ll settle for something smaller, for now, a moment. Just a moment at home with me.

I look at the time on my watch, I know Clara’s time perfectly. I know when she usually leaves the office.

I get up from my chair immediately, take the keys to the desk, and walk out without saying anythin to anyone.

The journey to the building where Clara works is almost automatic.

Chapter 94. Like in the old days

When I park in front of the building… I haven’t written to her yet.

I rest my arms on the steering wheel, think for a few more seconds. Then I pull out the phone.

But before I write to her… I make another call.

“I need you to make dinner,” I say when they answer at home.

I walk out of the car while I speak.

“Italian food.”

I pause.

“Yes… pasta.”

I smile barely.

“And that the table is ready.”

I also order flowers, all at the last minute.

Everything improvised, but I don’t care.

I hang up.

Then I look again at the building in front of me, the windows, the lobby.

Somewhere in there… Clara is finishing her day. My thumb moves over the screen.

Finally I write. And I wait.

To see Clara walk through the door of this house… it makes something strange inside my chest.

It’s a feeling that’s hard to describe. As if something that had been out of place for a long time… will return to where it belongs.

She walks a few steps inside the house with that mixture of curiosity and caution. Her eyes scan the place attentively. I know exactly what she’s feeling.

Because this house was hers too, for years.

I watch her as I lead her to the dining room, her steps slowing down. As if every corner awakens a memory, when we enter the dining room, the table is already prepared.

Warm light falls on the dishes. And about food.

Clara stops, her eyes falling towards the table.

“Pasta?”

The surprise in her voice is clear.

I lean lightly on the back of a chair.

“Yes.”

She looks at me. Then she looks at the table again.

There is a small incredulous smile on her lips.

“I find it hard to believe that you have prepared this.”

I can’t help but smile, her reaction is fair.

I take the bottle of wine and pour some into her glass.

“The fact that I am focused on my work,” I say calmly, “does not mean that I have been deaf or

blind to your requests.”

I look up at her.

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