Jason The bar was dimly lit, filled with the soft hum of conversations and the slow rhythm of jazz playing from hidden speakers. Rain tapped gently against the windows, matching the heaviness I carried inside me after the kind of day that seemed determined to go wrong from the very beginning. I sat across from Mike in our usual corner booth, staring blankly at the half-filled glass of red wine in front of me. My shoulders were tense, my mind exhausted, and every attempt Mike made to lighten the mood only drifted past me unnoticed.Mike, however, seemed distracted. His phone buzzed for what felt like the fifth time that evening, and when he glanced at the screen, his expression changed instantly. “It’s Clara,” Mike muttered before answering the call. He leaned slightly away from the table, lowering his voice, but not enough to stop my curiosity from growing.At first, I tried not to listen. I swirled the wine in my glass and focused on the rain outside, but fragments of the conver
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