Clara’s voice cracked out before she could stop herself, raw with fury.
She cut them off,hung up,and blocked the number.
Jonathan had been standing quietly a few steps away, watching. He couldn't catch every word, but he knew enough from Clara’s expression and the fragments she’d spoken. A storm passed behind his eyes, but he swallowed it down and offered only a measured hand and a glass of warm water.
“Not worth your anger,” he said quietly. “Don’t let him steal what little strength you have left.”
Her fingers closed around the cup; they were ice-cold. She looked at him, decision settling like iron in her chest. “Jonathan, I’m leaving tomorrow. I won’t stay here.”
He blinked, then nodded with steady support. “Where do you want to go? I’ll arrange it.”
“I don’t know yet. Just… let it end here.” Her jaw was set. “Everything here ends.”
“Okay.” He bowed his head slightly. “I’ll see you off at the airport tomorrow night. Before you go—dinner. One last farewell.”
She offered a faint, tired smile. “The Western restaurant. The one we used to go to.” It was where she and Adrian had first been young and hopeful. She wanted the place where their beginning had been to mark the end.