Clara turned to leave, but he grabbed her wrist, his grip so tight it stung. She yanked her hand away, stepping back a few paces while rubbing her wrist. Dylan's face fell, and he mumbled apologetically, "I'm sorry."
"It's fine, I'll get Aiden," she replied quickly, eager to escape the awkwardness. She hurried off to find Aiden's room.
"Mr. Dylan's got a cut on his palm. Can you grab a first aid kit from the front desk and patch him up?" she asked.
Aiden didn't even open the door, sounding puzzled. "The boss was fine on the way here. How’d he get a cut?"
"I'm pulling a late one here, Ms. Clara. Could you handle it?" Aiden said, clearly tied up with work.
Clara sighed, knowing she couldn't just leave it. If Dylan got an infection, she'd be partly to blame. She dashed to the front desk, grabbed the kit, but was stopped by Eden as she returned.
Eden didn't bother hiding her intentions anymore—Clara was well aware of her feelings. "Dylan's hurt? Hand over the first aid kit. I'll take care of him."
Clara was more than happy to pass the torch. She handed Eden the kit and retreated to her room, ready to catch some sleep.
Just as she settled in, Eden's crying echoed through the halls, clearly having been sent packing. Serves her right...
About to doze off, her phone buzzed with a text from Z.
[You still up?]
[Yeah, what's up?]
After sending it, she realized it might seem a bit curt; not the best way to chat with her boyfriend. She took a breath and messaged again.
[Just letting you know I'm on a business trip. Don't swing by my place this week, I won't be there.]
With that sent, she tried to sleep, but Dylan's message popped up.
[You asleep?]
Clara decided not to reply, pretending she was already out cold. Then Z texted again.
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