Clara sat on her bed, staring at the ceiling. No matter how much she tried to brush it aside, Mitchell's image kept flooding her thoughts, refusing to let go. Guilt weighed heavy on her heart. She hated the feeling.
"How could I not even give him a proper chance to speak?" she murmured.
Shaking her head, she grabbed her phone. As soon as she opened the app, she saw it. His profile glowed green. Online.
"Online? At this hour?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. Her heart clenched. Is he chatting with someone?
Her mind spiraled.
It has to be a woman. Why else would he stay up this late? Men... she thought bitterly.
"Cunning creatures," she whispered aloud before dragging herself to the kitchen for a glass of water.
Mitchell sat on his couch, his laptop closed, his work finally done. Still, his restlessness didn't subside. Giving in, he opened his phone and, without thinking, checked Clara's profile. Online.
The sight irritated him more than it should. "Who's she chatting with? I thought she was too busy earlier to even respond," he muttered. His jaw clenched.
Ashley? The name alone made his blood simmer. If it's that clown again...
Unable to stop himself, he typed out a message.
Mitchell: Still awake?
The seconds stretched, but her response came quicker than expected.
Clara: I couldn't sleep.
Mitchell sat up straighter, relief mixed with curiosity.
Mitchell: Oh, well. It's different for me. I was busy with work.
Clara read his message, her lips twitching slightly. "Work. Of course," she said aloud, a strange sense of relief washing over her.
Their conversation continued, though she struggled to keep her emotions in check. The tension between them felt heavier with every passing moment.
Mitchell: So…
Clara: So, what?
Mitchell: Are you still busy?
Clara: Lol. I'm not.
Mitchell: You know, earlier, I wanted to talk to someone. I felt really lonely.
She paused, her heart skipping at his words.
Clara: I'm sorry. I should have been there for you earlier.
There was an unspoken vulnerability in his text. She didn't know how to deal with it. Wanting to break the tension, she typed something she'd wanted to ask for a long time.
Clara: Mitchell, I've noticed you've been… different with me ever since I started working in the company. Back in Ottad, my presence always seemed to irritate you.
He read her text, exhaling slowly. Back in Ottad, there was tension between them. No doubt about it.
Mitchell: You're still the same annoying Clara, I won't lie. But I can't overlook the fact that you saved my life. You and your grandmother… you both took care of me. Even if I didn't show it then, I did notice everything.
Clara blinked, stunned by his honesty. Mitchell? The arrogant one? Acknowledging anything?
Clara: Wow. Is this coming from the all-so stiff and arrogant Mitchell?
He laughed softly.
Mitchell: Stiff, sure. But arrogant? Come on. If anything, I just keep to myself. That's my personality. It doesn't mean I'm arrogant.
Clara: Tell that to the walls.
Mitchell shook his head, smiling. She always found a way to get under his skin.
For a moment, neither of them typed, both unsure of what to say next. Finally, Clara broke the silence.
Clara: About your memories… have they come back? Completely?
Mitchell hesitated. His throat tightened as he thought about how incomplete he still felt.
Mitchell: No. Not everything. I can't remember how I got to the place where you found me. And my childhood... it's mostly blank.
Clara's fingers hovered over her phone. How could she offer comfort to the son of the man who ruined her life? But Mitchell wasn't done.
Mitchell: You don't understand, Clara. It's frustrating. Seeing people who say they care about you but not knowing if it's real. Most times, I think it would've been better if those men had killed me. Waiting for memories that might never come… it's unbearable.
His words hit her like a punch to the gut. Clara bit her lip, torn between hatred and compassion. This man, this son of a murderer was pouring his heart out to her. What was she supposed to say?
But the pain in his words pushed her to respond, even against her better judgment.
Clara: Don't say that. You're alive for a reason, Mitchell. And that purpose… you'll find it. In time.
Mitchell stared at the screen, her words seeping into his thoughts. How could she speak with so much conviction?
Mitchell: Wise words, Clara. You've surprised me.
Mitchell: But for someone so wise, calling me arrogant seems pretty careless. Maybe you should actually get to know me first.
She sighed, the guilt resurfacing.
Clara: What do you mean by that?
Mitchell: Let's be friends.
Her heart thudded uncomfortably at his suggestion. Getting close to him would only complicate things further.
Clara: Aren't we already friends?
Mitchell: Not really. We barely speak outside of texting. In person, we're practically strangers.
Clara felt herself sinking deeper into dangerous waters.
Clara: Maybe I'm fine with that.
Mitchell: You watched me from a distance, and that's why you judged me wrong. But it's fine. I see you don't really want to be friends.
Her chest tightened with guilt again. "He always has a way of making me feel terrible," she muttered, face-palming.
Finally, she typed back.
Clara: Alright. Friends.
Mitchell: Friends.
Mitchell: Well, friend, I'm sleepy. Goodnight. Sweet dreams.
Clara: Goodnight.
Setting her phone down, Clara stared at the dark ceiling. A storm of emotions raged within her. Her anger, her desire for revenge, they felt further away now, dulled by every interaction she had with him.
"How do I even avenge my parents' deaths if I keep letting him get close?" she asked herself. But another voice inside whispered, If you push him away completely, could you bear it?
"No," she muttered fiercely, clenching her fists. "No matter how close we become, I will avenge my parents. Come what may."
But the walls of her resolve were cracking, and she wasn't sure how much longer they'd hold.