His laugh was brittle. “Things haven’t exactly gone as planned. The firm let me go a few months back. They said I wasn’t performing — can you believe that?” He shook his head, almost amused. “And Liora… she left. Took some of my money too. Guess she wasn’t in it for the long haul.” Clara watched him quietly, her expression unreadable.
He went on, still smiling like he was trying to make the story sound less pathetic. “Anyway, I was just wondering — how did you manage all this? The treatments, the rent, everything?” She tilted her head slightly. “You mean how did I survive after you left me to die?” The smile froze on his lips. “That’s not fair—”
“It’s true,” she said calmly. “You stopped showing up. You stopped answering. I was barely breathing, Evan, and you couldn’t even pretend to care.” He faltered, eyes dropping to the floor. “My mom handled what she could,” she continued evenly.
“And then my grandfather’s inheritance came through. It was more than we expected — enough to cover everything. Enough for me to start over.” Evan’s face shifted — surprise first, then something greedier underneath. “That’s… incredible. For us.”
“For us?” she repeated softly. He blinked, realizing too late what he’d said. “I just meant— we’re still married, technically. I figured—” “You figured wrong,” she said, her tone cutting clean through the air.
He hesitated, then took a slow step toward her, voice softening to a pleading murmur. “Clara, listen… I know I messed up. I was scared, I didn’t know how to handle it — seeing you sick, thinking I might lose you. But I’m here now. I can take care of you, of us. We can start over.”
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