No Strings Attached

Chapter 249

What Ian didn't realize was that the moment he plunged off the cliff, her heart shattered along with him.

During the agonizing wait for rescue, it felt like she had lived through a century. She whispered Ian's name to herself countless times. With each utterance, her heart throbbed with pain.

It was only then that Clara came to understand that she had long since let go of their troubled past. What took root in the depths of her heart was a steadfast yearning that had not waned through the years. It was love that had seeped into her very bones.

Rose watched Clara, her eyes brimming with tears of anguish, and felt her own eyes moisten. She crouched down and patted Clara on the shoulder. "Clara, you must be scared out of your wits. Come here, let me give you a hug."

Clara looked at her through tear-blurred eyes and choked out a sob. "Grandma Rose, I'm so sorry."

Rose had lived for so many years, yet she weathered the storms alongside them. It was always a narrow escape from death, and every time, it was her dearest grandson who got hurt. Not once did she complain, and here she was, stooping down to comfort Clara. Guilt and remorse flooded Clara's heart.

Rose gently stroked her head and said with a smile, "What are you talking about, dear. You're going to be my granddaughter-in-law. That boy was saving his father-in-law-to-be. It's only right and proper—no need to feel sorry. Now, no more tears. Ian needs you to be strong for him. I'll have someone bring you some comfort food."

Throughout Ian's hospitalization, it was Clara who cared for him.

On the third night of Ian's coma, Brodie came to check on Clara. Seeing her gaunt cheeks, a flicker of concern passed through his narrowed eyes. "Clara, are you holding up okay?"

Clara was surprised, "Mr. Brodie, what brings you here?"

"I heard about the accident and wanted to see how you were doing."

Brodie glanced at Ian lying on the bed, his head wrapped in bandages and his face marred with abrasions. Still, the innate sharpness he possessed could not be concealed. His chiseled features and strong lines, every bit, seemed to have been meticulously sculpted by God himself. Ian was beautiful to the extreme.

An image of the DNA report flashed through Brodie's mind, darkening the emotions in his eyes. He desperately wanted to tell Clara that he was the friend who used to buy her candy when they were kids, but as the words reached his lips, they choked in his throat.

The unresolved animosity between him and Ian was still a tangled mess, and if Clara truly ended up with Ian, putting her in the middle would inevitably cause her pain.

Brodie's lips curved into a half-smile as he handed her something. "My mom made this herself. Give it a try."

Clara had lost most of her appetite, but when she lifted the lid, the aroma hit her, and her eyes widened in recognition. The scent was all too familiar, like a cherished memory preserved over the years. Content held by NôvelDrama.Org.

Eagerly, she had a small bite of the lasagna, and the rich flavor tantalized her taste buds. A vivid memory flashed through her mind. In it, a young boy sat across from her as a scarred woman served them two steaming plates of lasagna. Impatient, she grabbed the fork and put it more in her mouth, only to burn her tongue and cry.

The boy blew on the steaming lasagna to cool it down before sliding the plate toward her. His hand gently ruffled her hair as he teased, "Little glutton, go on and eat."

As these thoughts surfaced, Clara stared at Brodie in astonishment. "Mr. Brodie, why does this taste so familiar? It's exactly like the kind I had as a child. A close friend's mother used to make this. Have we met before?"

Brodie felt a tug at his heart. His little 'tail' hadn't forgotten him completely. He smiled gently, "Have you ever thought about that friend?"

Just as Clara was about to reply, a deep, hoarse voice came from behind. "Clara."