Clara
The silence of the mansion always feels strange when I get home from work. It used to bother me, or at least I think it did… Because the Clara I remember hated silence. She needed background music, the sound of people talking, a business call, anything to remind her that the world kept turning.
But now… Now this silence feels like a mirror, one that forces me to look at myself and ask who I am, to think, to question…
I hand my bag to one of the maids, slowly climb the stairs, and go to my room to change—our room.
It's still hard for me to think of it that way, my room… Our room.
I still can't officially call it ours. I haven't gotten used to the idea of sleeping with him next to me…
I remember the first time perfectly. The second time… it's a complete void.
A black space in
