The next morning, as she got up, Clara found herself mulling over whether she should just go ahead and resign to maybe preserve a bit of her pride in the process. Feeling a little out of sorts, she made her way downstairs and, lo and behold, bumped right into Simon.
Simon had also crashed at the Bradford estate the night before. Seeing Clara without any makeup, Simon felt something stir inside him. He’d seen her vibrant, youthful energy before, and there was no denying her beauty. People might criticize her character, but nobody ever questioned her looks.
Simon found himself lost in her features, until he snapped back to reality and made a beeline for the stairs, rushing so fast he ended up taking a tumble. Clara, not in the mood to deal with him, was about to leave when Simon called after her.
“Clara, I want to take you somewhere today. Maybe it’ll help jog your memory. I’ve spoken with the doctor about it,” he said.
Clara frowned, pulling open the living room door, her tone sharp. “Can you just leave me alone?”
His face fell, her words catching him off guard. Over the years, he’d practically made it his mantra to tell her to stop bothering him. A sudden pang hit him, and his eyes started to redden.
Clara felt even more irritated. Bizarrely, Simon’s vulnerability was making her uneasy. What was going on with her heart?
Simon took a moment, pressing his lips together, holding back from his usual outbursts. “I’m just trying to help you. If you can’t remember, you’re going to be at a disadvantage and potentially in danger. I messed up before, but this time, I genuinely want to help.”
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