[Nathaniel's POV]
Nathaniel hadn't realized how quickly he'd gotten used to having Clara around until that morning.
He caught himself smiling as he made breakfast, remembering the way she'd nearly fallen asleep at the counter last night after devouring his cooking even how she refused to not help him resulting in her hurting herself.
They didn't even watch the movie she said they should. She'd looked so content it almost made him forget how tired she'd been. He wasn't sure when he started enjoying cooking for someone else, but seeing her eyes light up had made it worth it.
He'd never thought of himself as a domestic man, but with her around, he didn't seem to mind.
By the time he got to the office, he was still in a good mood. Sarah, his secretary, noticed it instantly.
"You seem cheerful this morning, sir," she said, handing him a stack of files.
"Do I?" Nathaniel asked, hiding a faint smile.
"Yes, sir. It's a little unsettling," she teased lightly before returning to her desk.
Nathaniel chuckled under his breath and got to work. But as the hours slipped by, something felt off.
He glanced at the clock. Clara should have been at the lab by now. She was always punctual, sometimes even early. He figured maybe traffic had delayed her, but something didn't sit right.
He pressed the intercom. "Sarah, can you check if Clara's signed in at the lab yet?"
A pause, then Sarah's voice came through. "No record yet, sir."
Nathaniel frowned slightly. "Alright. Thank you."
He tried to focus again, but he couldn't shake the feeling. After another fifteen minutes, he gave in and grabbed his phone.
It rang twice before she answered. "Hey, Nathaniel."
The sound of her voice brought a wave of relief, but his worry stayed. "Clara? Where are you? You were supposed to be at work an hour ago."
"Yeah… about that," she said, sounding guilty.
"Clara."
"There was an accident," she blurted, "but I wasn't in it! I swear. Someone got hurt, and I helped. I'm at the hospital now."
Nathaniel was already half-standing from his chair. "I'm coming to get you."
"No!" she said quickly, and he could hear the fluster in her tone. "You don't have to. I'm fine. The woman's the one who got hurt—I just wanted to make sure she's okay before I leave."
"Clara…"
"Please, Nathaniel. Don't worry. I'll text you once I know she's alright."
He sighed quietly. He knew there was no winning when she sounded that firm. "Alright. But if you're not back by noon, I'm coming there myself."
"Deal," she said softly. "Thanks, Nat."
"Just… be careful," he murmured, and ended the call.
He tried to get back to work, but it was hopeless. Every report blurred together. Every number felt meaningless. His mind kept replaying her voice, picturing her sitting in some sterile hospital corridor, trying to act calm.
By eleven-thirty, he gave up pretending.
He stepped out of his office, coat already in hand.
Sarah looked up from her computer. "Heading out, sir?"
"Yes."
"Should I move your meeting with Mr. Halvorsen to the afternoon?"
"Do that," he said.
The meeting could wait, he had to check whether Clara was okay.
She hesitated, then asked gently, "Is everything alright?"
Nathaniel paused at the door. "It's… personal."
Her eyes softened, but she only nodded. "Understood."
As he walked toward the elevator, he ran a hand through his hair and sighed.
Clara told him not to worry. But how was he supposed to do that?
All he could think about was her sitting there, waiting.
And for some reason, the thought of her facing it alone just didn't sit right with him.