Chapter 4

Clara POV

The same crying again.

The sound of my baby crying. The very thin sound, sharp, endless.

I stumbled through the darkness, my hands stretched out, my bare feet scraping against the cold and wet floor.My breath came fast. The wailing grew louder, piercing,

“Where are you sweetheart? Mummy’s coming to get you baby.” I shouted into the dark, asking no one in particular, hoping she would talk. My voice sounded small. Helpless. Desperate.

Then I saw her.

A crib.

I rushed forward, relief flooding through me, my little girl had been crying for hours, but the moment I looked down, the air froze in my lungs.

She wasn’t moving.

Her little chest was still. The crying had stopped, cut short like a good movie. Her eyes stared blankly up at me, wide and glassy, and when I touched its tiny hand, it was ice-cold.

“No, no, no, no, no!” I screamed, taking the lifeless body into my arms. My throat burned, my heart raced, and the room spun.

The scream ripped me apart.

And then I woke up, sweat tricking down my face.

“Clara.” A deep voice broke jolted me back to reality.

“Dylan?” I called back as if I wanted to be sure.

I turned and found him. The man who’d become my anchor. Sitting at the edge of the bed, his brows pulled tight, his eyes searching my face.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

I nodded, though my hands still trembled. “Yes. It was just…”My voice cracked. “The same nightmare.”

His expression softened. “The same nightmare again?”

“Yes.”

I’ve been having the same nightmare for as long as I can remember. Every night, the same baby, my baby, the same sound, the same dead child.

He reached for my hand, his thumb rubbing circles into my skin. “Hey, listen to me. It’s not real. It’s just your mind messing with you. You’re safe here.

Something about his tone comforted me, pulled me back from the trembling edge I’d been dancing on. He always had that effect.

I let out a shaky laugh. “You must be tired of cheering me up by now.”

He smiled faintly, shaking his head. “Never.”

The silence stretched, comfortable this time. Then he stood, adjusting the cuff of his shirt. His tie hung loose around his neck.

“What are you doing here?” I further asked.

“It’s been three months since you came back to the country and I thought I should see you. I know we’ve both been too busy. I missed you,” he said, patting my head softly. “Missed you too, really good to see you.” I said, all smiles.

We didn’t live together anymore, I got my own place in the heart of the city, a little distant from where he lived.

“You’re heading out?” I asked.

“Yeah. I have to be at the office.” He glanced back at me, his mouth tilting into a small smile.

“I had to see for myself that you’re okay.”

My throat tightened again, but this time with gratitude. “Thank you. For everything. For saving me, for giving me a reason to live when all I ever wanted to do was die.”

He didn’t reply, just squeezed my tiny hand once more before standing to leave.

The door closed gently behind him.

I sat there, breathing slowly, letting the nightmare fade.

But of course, it never truly faded.

Later that morning, I stepped into my study, where my secretary was already waiting, files neatly stacked in her hands.

“Good morning, Dr. Clara.” She greeted me.

“Morning, Amie. What do we have today?”

She handed me the first file. “Updates from the orphanage.” She said.

I flipped it open, my heart tugging as I scanned the report. The orphanage had become my second home, the place where I poured the love I could never give my own child. Children with no parents, no one to fight for them, I couldn’t just abandon them. Not when I knew what abandonment felt like. I decided I was going to feed them, train them, and house them.

One case caught my eye. A little girl, barely nine years old. Her condition had worsened. She needed immediate surgery.

My chest tightened.

“We’ll schedule it today,” I said firmly. “And I’ll take the case myself.”

The secretary hesitated. “Doctor, are you sure? You just had a 12 hour surgery a few days ago, you should rest. We have other capable surgeons…”

“I can’t let anyone else handle this one,” I cut in. My voice shook with something deeper than duty. “This girl needs me. She’s my daughter, they’re all my children.”

The secretary nodded quickly. “Understood. I’ll make the arrangements.”

She moved to hand me another file. “There’s also this. Another patient in need of critical surgery. Very delicate. They’re requesting for you specifically, look into it to know if it something you want to take on”

She placed it on the desk and left quietly.

I stared at the folder, the weight of it pressing against me even though it remained closed.

I leaned back, my eyes drifting to the ceiling.

And just like that, my mind dragged me back. Back to that night, seven years ago.

I had clutched the divorce paper to my chest like it was my last belonging, the final proof that I had nothing left.

I was ready.

I had climbed down to the jagged edge of the beach, barefoot, trembling, broken. I wanted the water to take me, to silence everything, the shame, the pain, the years wasted on a man who never saw me. The urge to still want to try even with all that happened.

But then he appeared, Dylan. Yes, the same Dylan.

I didn’t hear him approach. I just felt a sudden grip on my wrist, firm and unyielding, pulling me back.

“Don’t,” he had said. Just one word, but it rang like thunder.

I fought him, weakly, desperately. “Let me go. Please, let me go.”

He didn’t. His eyes burned into mine, steady, unwavering.

“No. Not like this. You don’t get to end your story here. I do not want to watch a live suicide. You deserve better, whatever made you want to do this. And I’ll prove it to you.”

Something in his voice…calm, commanding, broke me. I collapsed against him, sobbing, while he held me as though I was something precious, something worth saving, something worth loving, genuinely.

That night, he promised me a new life. He promised he would make me untouchable, irreplaceable. That I would rise again, not as the broken wife of Bruno Clark, but as Clara, the woman the world would never be able to destroy. The woman the winds will bow to.

And for some reason, I believed him.