Chapter 6

Clara

I closed the door behind me with more force, the sound of the door cracked through the quiet hallway, the lock clicked absolutely, and only then did my body seem to remember how tired it was.

I stood there for a while, with my back to the door, my keys clenched so tightly in my fist. I was looking so stressed but I needed to freshen up and all.

The house smell was the same as usual, but at this point instead of comforting me, it made my chest tight.

I took a few steps forward, dropped my bag and keys on the bed, and the silence was too loud. My room seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for me to explain myself, to justify why I felt so hollow.

My shoulders were sagging, I pulled my dress off, letting it fall to the floor in a crumpled heap I didn’t bother to pick up. I pulled my shoes and placed them on the shoe rank.

I quickly rushed to the bathroom, I took a deep breath, applied my cleanser on my face and on my body, I poured water then cleansed my face properly.

I took my towel, wiped my body, and tied it around my chest, still feel pain in my chest.

I opened my wardrobe, brought out a free shirt and a shirt. I changed into it immediately and sat on the chair.

The weight I’d been carrying all day finally collapsed in on itself, staring at the tiles as if it might tell me what to do next, my breath hitched once and suddenly.

I swallowed hard to steady myself and also tried to be reasonable but it didn’t work but only making it worse.

My shoulders began to shake, and I folded in on myself, gasping as the tears came quickly and hot, they blurred my vision, soaked into the sleeves of my shirt as I wiped at my face.

I cried so hard, my face twisted, and I let myself slide back against the chair.

My sobs grew uneven into shuddering breaths, I stayed there long after the tears slowed, eyes swollen, surrounded by the quiet I’d finally earned but real.

In that process, I heard a knock at the door but not that sharp, in my mind, I thought it was something far fell, but it didn’t occur to me to check who was at the door. I lay back on the chair, feeling broken and trying to wipe the tears.

Mirabella knocked once again, the sound of her knuckles dull against the door.

It was early evening, the light outside already softening, and she shifted the small bag in her hand from one arm to the other.

Inside the bag were my brother's things, like a folded shirt, and a charger he probably forgot at her place then she brought it to the house

Mirabella waited, listening. Nothing. No footsteps, no voice, not even the scrape of movement on the other side.

She frowned and opened the door this time.

“Hey, Clara?” Mirabella whispered.

“Is anyone here?” Mirabella asked but there was no response from me.

The house stayed silent. The quiet felt thick, heavier than she expected, and it made her pause. Clara was usually quick to answer, even if it was just to say she was busy.

Mirabella checked her phone, reread the last message she’d sent—I’m stopping by to drop this off—and hesitated.

Mirabella stepped inside, pulling the door shut behind her with quiet care, as if the house itself were asleep.

The entryway was dim, and she noticed right away the dress on the floor, the shoes kicked off haphazardly by the wall. It wasn’t like Clara to leave things like that. Her steps slowed

She moved farther in, the bag rustling softly in her grip.

“I’m just dropping something off,” Mirabella muttered her voice lower now, edged with concern.

The room came into view, and that was when she saw me curled up on the chair, shoulders hunched, face streaked with tears.

Mirabella's breath caught. For a split second, she stood there, unsure whether to speak or retreat, not wanting to embarrass me, not wanting to make things worse.

She carefully set the bag down on the table and took a step forward, her expression softening, her presence gentle and unannounced.

All of a sudden, she looked at me and she was shocked about what was going on. My posture was all wrong, like too folded in on itself and the air in the room felt strained as if something had been pulled too tight and was about to snap.

Mirabella became worried, at that point she was forced to ask.

“What the hell is going on?” Mirabella said, the words slipping out before she could soften them.

At the sound of her voice, I jerked as if startled awake. I turned my head toward the doorway, eyes unfocused.

I paused and looked at her, my mouth opened immediately, like I had been waiting for someone to ask.

I tried to speak, a sound forming in my throat that never quite became words. One hand lifted from my lap, fingers trembling, reaching for the edge of the couch or maybe for reassurance.

But my body betrayed me.

The color drained from my face in an instant, leaving my skin ashen and drawn.

My eyes fluttered, confusion flashing through them, and then rolled slightly as my head tipped back.

The breath I’d been holding slipped out in a shallow, broken exhale. Before I could finish the first syllable of whatever I meant to say, my strength vanished.

I slumped sideways.

It happened too fast, My shoulder struck the chair cushion first, then the rest of me followed, collapsing in on itself like a marionette with its strings cut.

My arm slid uselessly to the floor, fingers brushing the tiles. The room seemed to lurch with me, the quiet breaking under the soft, terrifying thud of my weight hitting the chair..