Ryan's POV
The boardroom was buzzing with numbers, charts, and projections, but Ryan
Blake found his mind elsewhere. The polished table stretched before him,
executives trading statistics like weapons in a duel, yet his focus drifted to
something far simpler: a girl's laughter.
Clara.
He remembered the way she had darted between displays during their shopping
trip, her eyes bright, her questions endless. She had chosen a dozen little
things for herself but refused to leave without something for her sister. That
scarf—Ryan could still picture the way she held it up to the light, insisting
it was perfect for Emily.
The memory tugged at him in a way that unsettled him.
"Ryan?"
He blinked, realizing silence had fallen in the room. An executive stared at
him, waiting for approval on a slide. He cleared his throat, forcing his usual
composure back into place. "Continue."
When the meeting ended, Julian was waiting by the door, smirk firmly in
place. "Distracted, Boss?"
Ryan shot him a look. "I was listening."
"Not really." Julian chuckled as they walked together. "I can practically
see the gears in your head turning—and not about quarterly reports. You're
still thinking about Clara."
Ryan adjusted his cufflinks, unwilling to admit it, but Julian wasn't wrong.
Julian nudged. "She's got you wrapped around her finger already."
"She's a child," Ryan said flatly. "Don't exaggerate."
"Sure. A child who somehow managed to make you smile twice in one
conversation. That's more than most people in this building have managed in
years."
Ryan didn't reply. But as he returned to his office, he couldn't help
acknowledging the truth: Clara had slipped past the walls he hadn't even
realized he still carried.
Clara's POV
Emily's laughter was the best sound in the world. Clara watched her sister
hold the scarf up to the light, running her fingers over the fabric like it was
spun from gold.
"You really like it?" Clara asked, bouncing a little on her toes.
Emily looked at her, eyes warm in a way that made Clara's chest fill with
pride. "I love it, Clara. It's beautiful."
Clara grinned, unable to contain her excitement. "Ryan said I should pick
something for you too, not just for me. He said sisters should share in each
other's joy."
Emily's smile wavered at the name but didn't fade completely. "That was very
thoughtful of him."
The apartment felt brighter than usual. For once, Emily wasn't tired and
serious; she was laughing, teasing Clara about buying too many notebooks,
trying on the scarf, even letting Clara twirl around to show off her new shoes.
Clara thought the walls seemed less gray that evening, as if happiness itself
had seeped into the cracks.
But still—Clara had more to say. And she knew exactly who she wanted to tell
it to.
Clara's Call to Ryan
When Emily went into the kitchen to prepare tea, Clara slipped the small
card from her pocket. The one with Ryan's number on it. She hesitated only a
second before snatching her sister's phone from the table and dialing.
The line rang twice.
"Blake," came the voice—firm, clipped, professional.
Clara almost lost her nerve, but then she whispered, "It's me."
A pause. Then, the transformation in his tone was immediate. "Clara?"
She grinned, clutching the phone tighter. "Yes! Did I disturb you?"
"No," Ryan said, and though the hum of an office lingered in the background,
his voice had softened. "Not at all. What's on your mind?"
Clara bounced onto the couch, excitement bubbling. "Emily loved the scarf!
She said it was beautiful. She smiled so much—I haven't seen her smile like
that in forever."
Something in Ryan's chest eased at her words. He could almost picture the
scene—Emily's face lighting up, even if he had never met her. "I'm glad," he
murmured.
"And I just wanted to say thank you," Clara continued earnestly. "You didn't
just make me happy. You made her happy too. That means… everything."
For a long moment, Ryan didn't speak. Gratitude so genuine, so
uncalculated—it wasn't something he was used to hearing. "You have a good
heart, Clara," he said finally. "Brave. Loving. Don't ever lose that."
Clara giggled, cheeks warm. "Emily should meet you one day. She'd like you.
And Julian too."
Ryan stilled. The thought sent a flicker of something through
him—anticipation, maybe even hope. But his reply was measured. "Perhaps."
Before Emily could notice, Clara quickly ended the call, her heart racing.
Emily's POV
That night, after dinner, Emily tucked Clara into bed. The little girl was
still glowing, her words tumbling even as sleep pulled at her.
"…Ryan is so nice, Emily. And Julian too. They make me feel… safe."
Emily smoothed the blanket over her, her chest tightening. Clara's voice
drifted into soft murmurs, then silence.
When Emily returned to the living room, she sat quietly, the scarf draped
over her lap. Her fingers traced the delicate fabric, her mind replaying
Clara's words. Safe.
It had been so long since Emily had felt that herself.
She leaned back, staring at the ceiling. Instead of suspicion, gratitude
swelled in her chest. Gratitude that Clara had found kindness in this world,
gratitude that someone had taken the time to make her little sister's heart so
light.
And beneath that gratitude was something else—a yearning she had tried to
bury for years.
She wanted to meet them. The strangers who had made her sister laugh so
freely, who had filled their small apartment with warmth. She wanted to look
them in the eyes and say thank you.
For the first time in years, Emily Carter allowed herself to hope.