The rain hadn't stopped.
By the time Julia stepped out of the café, the streets shimmered with water, city lights stretching across the puddles like broken glass. She didn't bother opening her umbrella. The cold drizzle soaked into her coat, her hair clinging to her cheeks, but she didn't care. Her chest felt too tight, her throat burned.
She had thought she was ready for this, for seeing Clara again.
But she wasn't.
Every word from that conversation replayed in her mind like shards cutting through her thoughts. I helped him.
Clara's voice. Quiet, trembling, but not remorseful enough.
Julia walked faster, her heels splashing through the puddles. Her fingers trembled around her phone, but she didn't call anyone. She didn't want to speak. She didn't even want to cry.
