Evening

Clara’s POV

The winter air in London had a kind of honesty about it cold, unapologetic, and brimming with the scent of damp pavements and car exhaust. It wrapped around me the moment I stepped out of the glass doors of the office building, the warmth of the heated lobby replaced by the crisp bite of February evening.

The day’s work had wound itself into a neat closeemails answered, contracts reviewed, and a meeting that had felt like walking on eggshells under the sharp, ...