Impossible. He had been gone for so long—her heart had learned to let go of the ache, but seeing him now, standing there as though no time had passed, shattered everything.
She stepped back, her hand trembling as she reached for him, pulling him inside. She didn't know how or why, but in that moment, all that mattered was that he was here. That the unbearable grief she had lived with for so long could finally, finally be undone.
They stood in the hallway for a moment, just looking at each other, as if checking to see if it was real. Then, hand in hand, Clara led him back toward the living room, feeling the warmth of his presence, the solidity of his body beside hers.
But as they passed the window, she froze.
There, standing on the same street corner as before, was the man in the worn leather jacket. His face was now visible, and she could see the same calm expression she had witnessed earlier. He was staring up at her window, his gaze fixed, unwavering.
And next to her, David was still there—alive, breathing, his presence real.
The world outside seemed to stand still, as if both men existed at once, somehow both here and there.
Clara's heart pounded in her chest as she turned slowly to David, her voice barely a whisper. "Who is he?"
David looked at her, his face unreadable, then back to the window, where the man remained.
