The Little Things

The following day, Clara was surprised to find Dylan waiting for her outside the office again. This time, he was alone, his expression calm but his eyes carrying a hint of something she couldn't quite place.

"Dylan," Clara said, her tone cautious. "What are you doing here?"

Dylan smiled, his hands tucked into his pockets. "I thought we could talk. Just the two of us."

Clara hesitated, and her mind raced. She had thought their dinner the previous night was a one-time gesture of goodwill from Dylan. But now, with him showing up again, unease washed over her.

"Dylan, I… I don't think that's a good idea," she said, her voice gentle yet firm. "We've already said everything that needed to be said. I believe it's best if we keep our distance."

Dylan's expression faltered, but he quickly recovered, his smile returning. "I understand, Clara. But I just… I needed to see you. To make sure you're okay."

Clara's chest tightened, but she held her ground. "I'm fine, Dylan. Truly. But this… this isn't helping. We can't keep doing this. It's not fair to anyone."

Dylan's shoulders slumped, his expression crumbling as he realized she meant every word. "Clara, I… I just…"

She reached out, placing a hand on his arm, her touch gentle but final. "You'll always be important to me, Dylan. But this is where we say goodbye. Please… respect that."

For a moment, Dylan looked like he might argue, but then he nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Okay. If that's what you want."

Clara's heart broke at the resignation in his voice, but she knew this was the right thing to do. She couldn't keep living in the past, and she couldn't keep letting Dylan hold onto hope that no longer existed. It was time to let go, no matter how much it hurt.

After that day, Dylan stopped reaching out. Clara didn't hear from him again, and though a part of her mourned the loss of what they had once shared, she knew it was for the best. She had made her choice, and she was determined to move forward with Aiden, to give their marriage a real chance.

As the days passed, Clara found herself growing more accustomed to the idea of spending the rest of her life with Aiden. What had once felt like a duty—a marriage of convenience—was slowly transforming into something deeper, something real.

With this shift in perspective, Clara began to notice the small details about Aiden that she had previously overlooked. The way he always made sure her coffee was just the way she liked it in the mornings. The way he would subtly adjust his schedule to match hers, ensuring they had time together even on their busiest days. The way his eyes softened when he looked at her, a quiet warmth that made her feel seen in a way she had never imagined they would become before.

One morning, Clara woke up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. She walked into the kitchen to find Aiden standing by the counter, his sleeves rolled up as he prepared breakfast. He glanced up as she entered, his smile warm and genuine. "Morning," he said, handing her a mug. "I figured you could use this before your meeting."

Clara took the coffee, her fingers brushing against his for a brief moment. "Thanks, Aiden. You didn't have to do this."

He shrugged, his tone light but his eyes sincere. "I know. But I wanted to. You've been working so hard lately. Thought you could use a little pick-me-up."

Clara sipped the coffee, the warmth spreading through her chest. It wasn't just the coffee that made her feel this way—it was the thoughtfulness behind it. Aiden had always been charming, but these small, deliberate gestures were something new. They felt personal, intimate, and they made her heart flutter in a way she hadn't expected.

Another evening, after a long day at work, Clara found herself sitting on the couch, her mind racing with the day's challenges. Aiden walked in, carrying a blanket and a book. Without a word, he draped the blanket over her shoulders and sat down beside her, opening his book to a marked page.

Clara glanced at him, her brow furrowed. "What are you doing?"

Aiden looked up, his expression calm. "You've had a rough day. I figured you might want some quiet company."

Clara's heart softened at his words. She hadn't realized how much she needed this—someone who understood her without her having to say a word. She leaned back against the couch, the tension in her shoulders easing as she let out a quiet sigh. "Thank you, Aiden."

He smiled, his gaze returning to his book. "Anytime, Clara."

Gradually, Clara found herself paying more attention to the little things about Aiden. The way he would hum softly while cooking, the way his laughter filled the room when he was genuinely amused, the way he always seemed to know when she needed space and when she needed comfort. These details, once unnoticed, now felt like pieces of a puzzle she was slowly putting together.

One evening, as they sat together on the balcony, Clara turned to Aiden, her voice soft. "You know, I never realized how much you notice things. The little things, I mean."

Aiden looked at her, his expression curious. "What do you mean?"

Clara hesitated, her fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass. "Like how you always know when I need coffee in the morning, or when I just need someone to sit with me quietly. It's… it's nice. I don't think I've ever thanked you for that."

Aiden's smile was warm, his eyes filled with a quiet affection. "You don't have to thank me, Clara. I just… I want to be there for you. However, you need me."

Hearing this, Clara's expression softened immediately. As Clara gazed off into the distance, lost in thought, a fleeting and indescribable emotion flashed across Aiden's eyes.