Chapter 4 ****A Night to Heal

Clara's call came just as I was debating whether to spend the night wallowing in self-pity or cleaning the apartment-not that I had the energy for either.

"You're coming over for a slumber night," she announced without preamble. "I'm not taking no for an answer. I've got snacks, movies, and a new board game that will make you laugh so hard you'll cry."

I chuckled despite myself. "Clara, I'm not sure I'm in the mood."

"That's exactly why you're coming. You're in a funk, Ev, and I refuse to let you drown in it. Be here in thirty minutes or I'm dragging you out myself."

Half an hour later, I was at her place, greeted by the comforting aroma of popcorn and the sound of Clara singing off-key to whatever was playing on her speakers. She grinned and threw a pillow at me as I walked in.

"There she is! My favorite workaholic and self-pity enthusiast."

We spent the night binge-watching rom- coms, mocking the cheesier ones, and playing a ridiculous trivia game where the loser had to do an impersonation of a celebrity. Clara's over-the-top impression of a dramatic soap opera actress had me laughing so hard, I nearly fell off the couch.

By the time we called it a night, I felt lighter than I had in weeks. Clara always knew how to pull me out of my shell, reminding me there was still joy to be found, even in the midst of heartbreak.

The next morning, Clara insisted on making us pancakes before we parted ways-me to work, her to her errands. As I walked to my car, I couldn't help but feel grateful for her. She was my rock when I needed it most.

---

The next day at work, I buried myself in tasks, hoping the routine would dull the ache still lingering in my chest. Work had become my safe space-a place where heartbreak didn't matter, where I could focus on numbers and reports instead of emotions.

Late in the morning, just as I was reviewing a client's report, a knock on the door broke my concentration. I looked up to see Claire standing there, a hint of excitement dancing in her eyes.

"Evelyn, Lucas is here to discuss the project," she said, stepping aside to let him in.

Lucas walked into the room, as composed as ever. He wore a sharp navy suit, his tall frame perfectly tailored, exuding the kind of confidence that came from knowing you belong in every room you step into. His expression was neutral-not overly warm, but not cold either.

"Good morning," he said, his voice calm and professional.

"Good morning, Mr. Lucas," I replied, keeping my tone equally polite. I gestured to the seat across from my desk, and he sat, placing a sleek folder on the table.

We dove straight into the discussion, focusing on timelines, risks, and strategies for the project. Lucas's insights were sharp and practical, and I found myself appreciating how straightforward he was. No unnecessary small talk, no hidden agendas-just business.

At one point, I suggested a tweak to one of the project's phases. He nodded, his brows furrowing slightly as he jotted something in his notebook.

"That's a good adjustment," he said after a moment. "It should streamline the process. Let's go with it."

I nodded, feeling a small sense of accomplishment. The rest of the meeting flew by, the two of us working in sync as we ironed out the details. By the time we wrapped up, I felt a sense of progress.

"Thanks for your input, Evelyn," Lucas said, standing and extending his hand.

"Looking forward to seeing how this unfolds," I replied, shaking his hand. His grip was firm, his expression unreadable.

When he left, I leaned back in my chair, letting out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. It had been a productive meeting, but Lucas's presence lingered in the back of my mind longer than I expected.

---

That evening, I curled up on my couch with a book, trying to shake off the day. My apartment felt quiet-too quiet. It didn't help that Clara had dropped me off earlier, joking about how I needed to host the next movie night.

As I was starting to relax, my phone buzzed. I reached for it, frowning when I saw an unfamiliar number.

"We need to finalize the details of the upcoming presentation. Can we meet tomorrow? – Lucas."

I stared at the message for a moment, unsure why it made my stomach twist. It was a simple, straightforward text. Just work.

Setting the phone back on the coffee table, I let out a long breath. The week ahead was going to be more intense than I'd thought.