The dinner should have been easy.
Clara made sure of that.
She carried conversations effortlessly, her voice smooth, her words always measured, always intentional. She spoke about business, about expansion, about possibilities that stretched far beyond the city lights glowing behind them. Anyone watching would think it was perfect—two people from the same world, the same level, the same understanding.
And Belonia played his part well.
He listened when he needed to. Responded when required. His posture remained composed, his expression unreadable, his presence steady.
But something about him wasn't quite there.
Even Clara noticed it.
"You're drifting again," she said softly, her fingers brushing lightly against the rim of her glass as she studied him.
"I'm here," he replied, his voice calm, controlled.
She held his gaze for a moment longer, searching for something beneath the surface, something he wasn't offering.
"Try to be," she murmured, though her smile remained.
He didn't respond, because the truth was simple and inconvenient.
He wasn't.
Across the city, far from polished tables and quiet luxury, Elina sat in a place that felt like a different world entirely.
A small, open space just behind a modest home, where the air carried the faint scent of earth and feed. The soft clucking of chickens filled the silence, gentle and unbothered, a rhythm that didn't demand attention yet somehow soothed it.
She sat on a low wooden stool, her hands resting loosely in her lap, her posture relaxed in a way it hadn't been all day.
One of the chickens wandered closer, pecking lightly at the ground near her feet.
A small smile touched her lips.
"Careful," she said quietly, her voice softer here than it ever was in the city. "There's nothing there."
The place wasn't hers, not really. It belonged to a woman she had met months ago, back when she still worked at the kindergarten outside the city. Somehow, without planning it, Elina had started coming back whenever everything felt too heavy.
There was something about this place.
No expectations. No confusion. No unspoken tension hanging in the air.
Just simple things.
And for now, that was enough.
Her fingers moved absently against the fabric of her sleeve as her thoughts slowly drifted back to him.
She hadn't expected it to hurt like this.
Not in a sharp, overwhelming way that demanded attention, but in something quieter. Something that stayed beneath the surface, a steady ache that refused to leave.
The way he looked at her sometimes.
The way he didn't, other times.
The way things shifted between them without warning, without explanation.
And maybe the hardest part of all—
The way she had let herself feel something, even if it was small.
She exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing just a little.
"It's fine," she whispered, though it wasn't really about convincing anyone else.
It was for herself.
Because pain like this didn't need to be fixed immediately.
Sometimes it just needed space to exist, to settle, to fade in its own time.
Another soft flutter pulled her attention downward as a second chicken moved closer, nudging lightly at the ground.
Elina leaned forward slightly, her expression softening.
"At least you're honest," she murmured.
They didn't pretend. They didn't confuse her. They didn't make her question what was real and what wasn't.
And right now, that honesty felt like peace.
Back at the restaurant, Clara leaned back slightly, her eyes still on Belonia.
"You don't have to pretend with me," she said after a while, her tone gentler now, less playful.
"I'm not pretending."
She tilted her head, studying him carefully. "Then why do I feel like you are?"
There was a pause.
Belonia set his glass down slowly, his expression unreadable, but something in his gaze had shifted.
"Why does it matter?" he asked.
Clara didn't look away. "Because I don't like competing with something I can't see."
That caught his attention.
Something subtle. Something real.
"You're not competing with anything," he said, though the words didn't carry as much certainty as they should have.
"Then prove it," she replied, her voice soft but deliberate.
And just like that, the air between them changed.
Because for the first time that night, the conversation wasn't about business.
It wasn't even about Clara.
It was about something he wasn't ready to name.
Later that night, Elina walked home slowly, the quiet of the evening wrapping around her like something protective.
Her steps were unhurried. Her thoughts no longer racing.
The ache was still there.
But it felt… softer now.
Manageable.
She knew it wouldn't disappear overnight.
But she also knew she didn't have to fight it.
She could simply let it be.
Let it pass.
And somewhere else in the city, Belonia stood by his window once again, staring out at a view that had never felt small until now.
Everything around him remained the same.
But something within him wasn't as steady as it used to be.