บททั้งหมดของ Broken Vows, Rising Flames : บทที่ 151 - บทที่ 160

Clara’s POVI couldn’t help but smile as her toothless mouth latched onto my left breast. One tiny hand rested against my skin while she nursed, and a warm, motherly feeling washed over me, so strong it felt as though this were my very first child.She was the only reason I kept wearing my smile. Damon sat beside the bed, elbows on his knees, watching us like she might vanish if he looked away.“She’s so peaceful,” he said. “She has no idea how much we’re counting on her.”“She doesn’t need to know.” I tucked the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “She just needs to be here. That’s all she has to do.”I watched her breathe and thought about everything I’d already survived. Leonard. Lydia. Years spent rebuilding myself out of nothing but stubbornness. This was just one more thing. Damon pushed back from his seat and matched forward. He touched her cheek with a finger, careful, like was afraid of leaving a mark on her fragile skin.“What if she’s not a match?” he asked m. “What if

Clara’s POVI stood at the gas cooker , flipping pancakes. Behind me, I could hear Maurice’s spoon clinking against his bowl, over and over, like a tiny bell.I glanced back at him. He was smiling down at his cereal like it was the funniest thing in the world. Few months back, I never thought this would be possible. But here we are. Here we are.I turned back to the pan just as I heard Damon’s footsteps behind me. He ruffled Maurice’s hair on his way past, murmured something that made him giggle, and then his arms were around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder.“What are you making?” he asked, planting a kiss to my neck. I turned in his arms and kissed him before I answered.“Pancakes for you.”“Smells nice.”“I want to have some too, Mom,” Maurice called out, already halfway out of his chair.I laughed. “Of course.”Damon’s phone rang from pocket. He pulled it and glanced at the screen. Something in his eyes shifted before he looked at me. “It’s the police,” he said,

Clara’s POVI sat in the dark, at the center of the bed. My knees were pulled into my chest and my arms wrapped around them, staring at nothing. I kept the posture for almost an hour until the door creaked open. I couldn’t see through the dark, but from the movement— I knew it Damon. He walked to the edge and turned on the switch. The fluorescent light was harsh against my eyes, forcing me to blink a few times to adjust.I couldn’t clearly see him now. Standing a few feet away with his hands shoved into his pockets. He looked exhausted. “Clara… I’m sorry.”I glanced away from him, using his words as an excuse to give him attitude. “For what?” My voice came out flat. “Not believing me? Or for thinking I’m crazy?”“For both. I should have trusted you.”I finally turned my head and looked at him. I don’t know what he saw in my face, but whatever it was, it made him flinch.“I called the detective,” I said. “I’m going to the morgue tomorrow. I need to see the body.”“Is that re

Clara’s POVI stood in the kitchen long after Damon’s car had left, staring at the bouquet on the table. If they weren’t from Damon, then who sent the roses? I turned the note over in my hands again, reading the same six words until they stopped meaning anything. For the most beautiful woman I know. I didn’t know why I gave it much thoughts. It not like it mattered anyway. Admirers wasn’t something that was out of this world. I put the flowers into a vase. Throwing them away felt like admitting I was afraid is a handful of flowers. By midafternoon l’d forgotten about it. Hope was asleep and I had managed to use that opportunity to fold the Laundry I had done. My phone rang just as I was about to fold the last cloth. It was Damon. Maybe he had something urgent to tell me. I answered the call and tucked the phone against my shoulder. “Hey baby. Is everything okay?” “Yeah,” he replied, pausing for a second before he continued. “I need a favor, actually.” His voice had that r

Clara’s POV I was wiping dust off the couch in the living room when I heard the faint sound of the door bell. My hand halted mid-air as I waited to be sure where the sound actually came from. It rang again, louder this time, humming through the whole place. I dried my hands with the towel on the counter and walked to the door. A mailman stood on the porch. A small leather bag hanging from his shoulder. “Clara Hayes?” “That’s me.” I said, my gaze sweeping over him. He quickly reached for his bag and pulled out a brown envelop from the side, handing over to me. The envelope had a logo stamped at the center with ‘Family First Foundation’ written just below it. “I’ll take my leave now,” he muttered, already turning to leave before I lifted my gaze to him. I waited until he left the premises before I turned for inside, tearing the envelope open. It was a short letter. It read, “We have received a report regarding your conduct at your son’s school and your interactio