Chapter 3

Bruno POV

It's been a week since Clara walked out of this house with nothing but that divorce paper clutched to her chest.

Not a call. Not a text. Not a single sign of her.

That had never happened before. In five years of living with her, I’d gotten used to her constant presence, I hate to admit it was soft, quiet, irritatingly hopeful.

No matter how harsh I’d been, she always circled back, always found a way to sit at the edge of my silence and wait for me to notice her.

I thought she’d come back this time too.

I thought she’d crawl back in tears, begging me to reconsider, promising to try harder, to be better, like she always did. And then I’d finally hand her some money, tell her to go start over somewhere else, somewhere far from me, far from us.

I was happy that she had gone, and for the first time in years, the house felt different. Peaceful.

Linda was here now. My Linda. The woman I’d wanted from the start. The woman I was robbed of when my grandfather forced me to marry Clara.

Even in death, the old man’s shadow still hovered over me. I didn’t want to disobey him. He had raised me, given me everything. So I married Clara to please him, but I never gave her my heart. I couldn’t.

Because my heart had always belonged to Linda.

And now, finally, Linda was here.

The soft glow of the lamp spilled across our bedroom, painting her silhouette in gold as she tucked our daughter beneath the blankets. The little girl’s chest rose and fell with the steady rhythm of sleep, her cute messy hair scattered across the pillow. Linda leaned down, kissed her forehead, and pulled the quilt higher.

Watching them together, my chest loosened. This was the family I’d always dreamed of. My woman, my child, my life. The life I always wanted.

For the first time in years, I felt at peace.

Linda crept out of the child’s room and into ours, her smile radiant, her perfume wrapping around me like a familiar embrace. She crawled into bed beside me, resting her head against my chest.

But even as I held her, even as I caressed her body, my mind drifted. Clara.

Where was she?

She had left with nothing. No money. No clothes. No bag. Just that envelope.

A flicker of unease scratched at the back of my skull. Was she wandering the streets right now? Sleeping on some bench? Did she even eat? What was she wearing? Did she find help?

I pushed the thought away, tightening my hold on Linda.

She shifted against me, her lips brushing my jaw.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been absent all night.”

“Nothing my love,” I muttered, forcing a smile.

She leaned back, studying my face. “Don’t lie to me, Bruno.”

“You’ve checked your phone a hundred times. You barely listen to all I’ve been saying. Your mind isn’t here with me.”

I sighed, dragging a hand over my face. “I’m just tired. Work’s been… a lot.”

She moved closer, “Babe, are you really okay, is something bothering you?”

“I said it’s nothing!” I yelled at her, unknowingly.

Linda frowned, her patience gone.

“When you’re ready to talk, you’ll come to me. I'm not going to babysit you like a child and have you yell at me like that.”

She stood off the bed, her silk robe swaying as she stormed upstairs to the guest room.

The door slammed.

I sat there in silence, staring at the ceiling, a strange ache spread through my chest. Linda was the woman I loved, the woman I had chosen, yet…

I thought of Clara again.

Clara, who never raised her voice at me. Clara, who always smiled through tears. Clara, who rubbed my back even after I yelled at her, whispering that everything would be fine even when I wanted her gone.

Linda was fire, sharp, consuming, demanding.

Clara had been water, soft, patient, enduring.

And for the first time in five years, I found myself comparing them.

I immediately tried to take my mind off it when I noticed I was comparing my Linda to that woman.

What the hell was wrong with me?

I loved Linda. I wanted Linda. I would do anything for her.

But why did Clara’s face keep drifting into my mind? Why did her absence feel like a weight pressing down on my chest? Why was I worried?

***************

The sound of my sudden alarm jotted me up from the bed. It another day already and I have got a lot to do at the office. I quickly hurried through my morning routine and I was done in no time.

Linda hadn’t said a word to me since last night. She was probably still angry at me for yelling and honestly, I felt bad for treating My Linda that way.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you, I should never have done that. I’ll watch it henceforth,” I apologized and I also had to promise dinner later.

As I walked into the office, buzzing with the usual norms of activity. Phones ringing, keyboards clacking, muted conversations, light sound of laughter filling the air.

I settled into my office, flipping open files, scanning contracts, barking a few words and sipping through my coffee, the one my secretary had made for me.

For a moment, I managed to forget, manged to pretend that everything was normal.

Then my phone rang.

An unknown number. I hesitated before taking the call, but it could be a client.

“Hello?” I answered, my tone clipped.

“Good morning. Am I speaking with Mr. Bruno Clark?”

“Yes. Who’s this?”There was a pause. Too long. Too careful.

“This is the city police. Do you know a woman named Clara?”

My grip tightened on the phone. My pulse stumbled.

“Yes,” I said slowly. “That’s… my ex-wife. Why?”

“Ex -wife, is that what you said?” They asked.

“Yes, we’re divorced.”

“I see, sorry to bother you, as we couldn’t reach any of her relatives or guardians.” They continued.

The voice on the other end lowered, i noticed they were murmuring something to each other, something I couldn’t hear. Then, there was a brief pause.

“I’m sorry, sir. She was brought in this morning.

“Okay, so how does that have anything to do with me?” I asked impatiently.

“She… she was found dead this morning.”

Mrs. Clara is dead.

“What?!” My eyes opened widened.