The Officer's Runaway Wife and Secret Son novel Chapter 335

Clara lay on the unfamiliar bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

The inn had thin walls, and she could faintly hear the sound of a television from the next room. The sound of the river outside was thin and dry at this time of year, and the night wind scraped across the exposed rocks, a grating sound that irritated her ears.

She stared at a small mold stain on the ceiling, counting it over and over.

Her phone was on the pillow beside her, but there were no new messages.

Noah hadn't texted.

Knowing his personality, since he had given her two weeks to cool off, he would never cross that line and disturb her now.

As for Rhys… he didn't have her contact information, so naturally, there would be no messages from him either.

Clara closed her eyes, her mind filled with the scene from the video call earlier.

He wasn't like this before.

The Rhys of the past had always been so busy.

Margot Johnson was sick, there was an accident somewhere, his family needed him.

He was so exhausted that if Clara tried to get him to watch a movie, he would fall asleep five minutes in.

The flickering light from the screen would illuminate the dark circles under his eyes. At the time, Clara had been so angry she wanted to shake him awake, but even with her hand raised, she would end up just gently guiding his head onto her shoulder.

She had felt so wronged.

It always seemed like his time was fragmented. He gave all his energy to Margot, to his job, and all that was left for her was a body full of injuries and his silence.

But now, this same man was patiently helping a child build a Lego set.

Father and son, their heads bent close together. It was so harmonious, so heartwarming. It was a scene she had imagined countless times.

Clear Creek was further north, and at night, the wind had a bite to it, much like winter in Brighton City.

The winters in Brighton City were always so long, with snow falling thick and fast.

In the darkness, time seemed to rewind eight years.

She was twenty-one then, young and fearless.

Ever since Rhys had given her his contact information, Clara had become even more determined, chasing after him every day after class.

Snowflakes fell from the sky, accumulating in a thin white layer on Rhys's shoulders and the brim of his hat.

Clara would crouch under a streetlight and watch him, sometimes for forty minutes straight.

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