A deep, gentle male voice came through the phone. "Sorry it's been so long since I contacted you. It's even busier here than at the manor, so calling isn't easy."
Claire Sinclair couldn't imagine just how busy he was, nor did she dare to ask. She simply replied politely, "It's fine. If you're busy, then stay busy."
An awkward silence fell between them.
Claire Sinclair's eyes shifted, and she couldn't resist asking, "When are you coming back?"
"Not for a while."
"Then when, roughly?"
"I might not even make it back next month."
'This month is only half over, and he might not even be back next month. Doesn't that mean it'll still be a long time?'
Hearing that his return date was still uncertain, Claire felt a profound sense of loss. "I get it. It's nothing."
"Claire."
"Hm?"
"Are you doing okay?"
Claire Sinclair barely had to think about the question before answering directly, "Not well at all. I'm sick. I'm dying!"
