Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

The man glanced at her through the rearview mirror and suddenly said, "Maybe you could talk to him."

Clara gazed out the window at the snowflakes swirling around, her eyes distant. “I barely know his past, so how can I really help? If staying there gives him peace, would asking him to leave in the name of love actually be right?"

She closed her eyes slowly, leaning back against the seat. "Sometimes, I just don't know how to be with him."

She wasn't sure who owed whom in their history, so she always felt the need to give him some slack.

The man was surprised by how deeply she was thinking about it all. Clara was sharp and could easily draw people in, but her clarity was a double-edged sword.noveldrama

As they stopped at a red light, he sighed. "Has he ever talked about his brother to you?"

"He mentioned it a couple of times, but I don't really know the details."

She thought he'd say more, but even as the car moved again, he stayed quiet.

Two hours later, they arrived at an old, rundown townhouse.

From the outside, it was dark, giving no sign if anyone was inside.

Clara stepped out first. Seeing the man still in the car, she asked, "What should I do?"

He gripped the steering wheel, rubbing his temples. "He's dealing with severe insomnia. If it continues, it'll take a toll on his body. If you have time, keep him company. You used to..."

He stopped abruptly, taking a deep breath.

"Anyway, having you there could really help. He's thinking about taking some meds with nasty side effects, like hallucinations. I tried to talk him out of it, but he won't listen. Maybe you can."

He sounded a bit desperate, like he wouldn't have asked Clara if he had any other option.

Clara nodded and was about to leave when the man handed her a packet of fever reducers.

"He's got a fever but refuses to go to the hospital. Make sure he takes this and gets some rest."

Clara felt a mix of anger and worry. Why was he neglecting his health like this?

She took the medicine and headed inside.

Z had this annoying habit of avoiding his bedroom, always curling up on the sofa like a sad little puppy.

Clara had been so busy lately, she hadn't had much time for him.

Following her memory, she went straight to the sofa and found a faint figure lying there.

She knelt beside him and touched his forehead, flinching at how hot it was.

"Were you just planning to tough it out if I hadn't come?"

He hadn't expected her, and though he shifted a bit, his voice was weak. "I'm sorry."

Clara gently gave him the pills, then helped him drink some water.

He swallowed instinctively and said again, "I'm sorry."

She was confused, not sure what he was apologizing for.

She found some tissues on the coffee table and gently wiped the sweat from his forehead.

He grabbed her hand with his feverish one. The room was dim, their faces hidden, but she could feel the sadness and complexity in his gaze.

"Clara, I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

Clara figured he was delirious from the fever, her heart aching a bit. "Alright, whatever it is, I forgive you."