"Ready?" Clark asked, his grip firm on Angela's hand. He could feel her trembling, so he tightened his hold to let her know she wasn't alone.
Angela remembered the night Clark picked her up from the mental institution—it was raining hard. He didn't say a word—just gave her a blanket and fed her soup while she cried in silence. She didn't know why she cried when she saw his face at her door, but from that moment on, she knew he wasn't just a friend.
Angela nodded, unable to speak. After everything she had gone through in the past months, having Clark by her side felt like a blessing. She never imagined that the man she once avoided would become her strongest support.
She wiped her sweaty palm on the side of her dress, but Clark immediately took her hand again. He didn't let go, even though she knew he could feel how cold her hand was.
In silence, they entered the conference room, where the most intense confrontation of her life was about to take place.
She looked around. The people they were waiting for hadn't arrived yet—only hospital personnel were present.
"Good morning," Clark greeted first, and those present responded politely.
Angela managed a smile but still couldn't speak. She knew that any moment now, people would walk in who could change her life forever.
"Have a seat. They'll be here any minute now," said a woman doctor—one of the hospital directors and a family friend of Clark's. She was also an OB-GYN and fertility specialist.
They sat quietly. With each passing second, the heaviness in Angela's chest grew. She felt like she might faint from the nerves.
As he looked at her, Clark couldn't ignore the ache in his chest. He wanted her to feel safe, but he wasn't sure if it was enough. Was he really doing the right thing? Or by trying so hard to help Angela, was he just hurting her more?
When Angela held his hand again, he forced a smile. This wasn't about him anymore. As long as she knew she wasn't alone, he was willing to be her anchor.
"Relax, I'm here for you," Clark whispered, gently rubbing her back. "You're not alone."
She held her breath. "Thank you. But still, I can't shake this anxiety."
"Everything will be fine."
She felt the cold air from the AC, but what was colder was the feeling inside her. It was as if she were freezing, despite Clark's warm hand in hers.
Just then, the door opened.
They turned toward it, and Angela quickly let go of Clark's hand out of respect for whoever had arrived. She was surprised to see Clark's parents.
"It's okay, sweetheart," his mother said, walking over and taking Angela's hand. "You know we're here for you."
Angela's eyes welled up. She hadn't expected this kind of support from her boyfriend's family. Ever since they started talking, she had often heard his mother mention how she thought there was something more between them.
"Aww, what a shame," she once said with a laugh. "I thought I was finally getting a daughter-in-law. I really like you for Clark. You're the only one he's ever brought home, and I can see how much he cares for you."
Every time Angela heard that, she couldn't help but blush. She never denied that Clark was important to her—but there was always a line they never crossed.
One night, after dinner, she had overheard Clark talking to his dad while holding a bottle of beer.
"Son, I'm a man too," his father said with a laugh. "I know you don't just see Angela as a friend. I don't know how you've managed not to confess to her."
Clark groaned. "Dad, stop. I don't want her to feel like I'm taking advantage of our friendship."
"Friendship my ass!" his dad replied, laughing.
"Dad! That's why Mom divorced you," Clark shot back, making his dad laugh even harder instead of getting mad.
Thankfully, everything his parents had hoped for happened after his mom's birthday celebration. That night, he and Angela had finally talked about the things between them—the feelings they had tried to ignore.
It brought happiness not just to Clark's parents but to the two of them as well, now that they no longer kept anything inside. They were free to express their true feelings without hesitation.
Angela's thoughts returned to the present when she heard the door open again.
And just like that, it felt like her world stopped.
As the seconds ticked by, each sound seemed louder. Angela's body flinched at every noise—every beat of her heart—like anxiety brushing against her skin, something she couldn't shake off. Every second of waiting felt like fate slowly dropping her into a void with no escape.
As Angela looked at the walls of the conference room, every detail seemed to sharpen—the long table, the dim ceiling lights, the items scattered around the room. Everything became a backdrop for something she couldn't control. The weight in her chest pressed down harder, and with each passing second, she felt they were inching closer to an unexpected end.
She froze.
She gripped Clark's hand tightly, as if hoping she was seeing the wrong person.
Her chest tightened. It wasn't just pain that returned—but every question she had tried to avoid. Why is he here? For what? For whom?
The man she tried so hard to forget—the one she thought she'd never see again—was here, standing in front of her.
She felt Clark squeeze her hand even tighter, accompanied by a soft but steady whisper, "I got you."
But inside Clark, a different storm was brewing. In the face of everything, he tried to hide any sign of weakness. Calm on the outside, but within, he was a bomb about to explode. The questions gnawed at him—can I really handle this? Can she not feel this tension coming?
He remembered the past few weeks.
How could he show strength while his heart clung to someone—Angela—whose heart might still be drawn to the man standing before them? He had avoided these thoughts so many times, but now they were here—he was here—and all Clark could do was feel the pain he knew Angela must be feeling.
Clark's eyes darted sideways. "Why am I even here?" His thoughts teased him, especially the questions he couldn't say aloud in front of Angela. He tried to joke, to be strong, but deep down, he was struggling too.
"Clark, relax," he whispered to himself, but he couldn't quiet the fear pounding in his chest. He knew he couldn't be everything Angela needed. Not yet. Not completely. So he forced a smile, and even though his heart was full of both hope and fear, he couldn't let Angela see it.
Meanwhile, Angela—no matter what she did—couldn't stop asking herself—
She almost stood to run out, but she stayed. Not because there was no escape—but because she had to face it.
There was something familiar in his walk, in his stance. A part of her mind wanted to scream his name, but she couldn't.
She wasn't ready.
"Why is he here?"