Your Love Is But a Dream (Clara and Wren) novel Chapter 46

Chapter 46 

The rain pounded against the noot, a relentless Hatton that mined the chans in Clara’s mind. She reached nut and turned on the light, the warm glow filling the room as she pulled herself out of bed 

Crossing the room, she shut the window to blockout the chill. Her eyes fell on the empty and quiet house as she tumed back. 

Sleep was the last thing on her mind. 

Clara grabbed a jacket and slipped it on before stepping out of her bedroom. She walked into the small study across the hall, where a corner was set up with a easel, some paints, and some sketchpads–materials her aunt had sent her just days ago. 

When the package arrived, Clara immediately understood Katrina’s intentions. But her hand. 

She clenched her fist instinctively, looking down at it. Slowly, she approached the easel and palled off the cloth draped over it. 

She sat down and picked up a paintbrush, dipping it into the colors with practiced ease. Yet, the moment the tip of the brush touched the paper, her hand began to tremble uncontrollably 

Flashes of the pain seared into her memory–her wrist pierced by the blade. The phantom ache was so vivid it made her hand spasm. The brush strokes she laid down were jagged and shaky, the lines barely coherent. 

When she looked at what she’d created, the mess of colors was unrecognizable. Frustration and despair surged through her, and she knocked over the tray of paint, the vibrant colors splattering across the floor. 

Clara buried Her face in her hands, her sobs muffled by the storm outside. 

The downpour drowned out her cries, giving her a fleeting sense of privacy, a space to 

space to let the weigh much time had passed when a knock suddenly broke through the sound of the rain. 

At first, she thought it was her imagination. But then she heard it again. 

weight of her emotions pour out unchecked. She had no idea how 

“Clara, are you in there? Say something if you are.” 

She froze. Was it Alexander? 

Hurriedly, she wiped her face and stood from the chair, walking to the door. When she opened it, she found Alexander standing outside, rain dripping from his hair and clothes. He looked thoroughly soaked and a little disheveled. 

“How did you get is?” she asked, her voice full of surprise and a hint of unease. She instinctively to 

took a small step back 

Alexander didn’t seem to notice her guarded reaction. His sharp gaze caught the redness of her eyes and the damp streaks on her cheeks. He paused, clearly 

“Were you crying?” His voice faltered, uncharacteristically unsure. 

then turned away to wipe her face, trying to regalus composar. “I’m 

she said softly, shaking her head, “Why are you here so late?” 

had locked the doors how had he gotten inside? 

Alexander scratched the back of his neck, now acutely aware of how his actions might come across. He quickly explained, “I live next door. Our houses share a wall,