Chapter 4
Thomas's message stayed on Clara's phone screen for several minutes.
“I think I'm falling in love with you.” She'd reread the sentence so many times she now knew every word by heart.
Yet she still couldn't decide what she was supposed to feel.
Part of her wanted to smile, to respond immediately and tell him she felt exactly the same way.
Another part, more cautious, reminded her that their relationship had started under unusual circumstances and that they'd never really defined what they were to each other.
She'd wanted this situation at the start—at least she'd wanted the experience and the emotions that came with it.
But she'd never expected a man to take over so much of her life.
She finally set her phone down on the table and got up to make tea.
She needed to move, to do something with her hands.
She filled the kettle, put away a few dishes, and wiped the already clean countertop without thinking.
Yet all her thoughts kept returning to Thomas.
She remembered their first meeting, her nervousness when she'd heard the question she dreaded, her hesitation before getting into his car, and especially the way he'd always given her the option to say no.
That was probably what had attracted her more than anything else.
He'd never tried to pressure her into continuing.
He'd never treated her like she belonged to him.
On the contrary, he'd constantly reminded her that she was free to leave.
She finally picked up her phone again.
“Me too.”
Just two words. She hesitated before sending them, then tapped the screen. The response came almost immediately.
“I needed to tell you.”
Clara smiled.
“Why now?”
“Because I don't want to keep pretending you're just someone I see from time to time.”
She sat down on the couch.
“And what do you want?”
This time, the response took a while.
“I don't know yet. But I know I don't want to lose you.”
Clara felt her heart clench. She wanted to tell him he had no reason to worry about that, but she knew she couldn't make such a simple promise. She didn't even know where this was going herself.
The next morning, she woke up feeling different.
Nothing had actually changed, but the way she saw her own life wasn't the same anymore.
She got ready for work as usual. In the mirror, she studied her face for a long moment.
She looked tired, but she was smiling slightly.
She wondered if her colleagues would notice anything.
At the office, her colleague Sophie sat down next to her during the coffee break.
“You look happy.”
Clara looked up.
“Why does everyone keep telling me that?”
“Because it's true.”
“I don't know.”
“Yes, you do. I've known you long enough.”
Clara smiled.
“I just have someone in my life.”
Sophie's eyes went wide.
“Finally!”
“Finally what?”
“Finally someone!”
Clara burst out laughing.
“Don't get carried away.”
“What's his name?”
Clara hesitated.
“Thomas.”
“And how long have you been together?”
The question caught her off guard.
“It's complicated.”
Sophie smiled.
“Complicated stories are often the most interesting.”
Clara didn't respond. She obviously couldn't tell her the truth. Yet this secret was starting to weigh on her.
That evening, Thomas was waiting for her at a café near her apartment. When she arrived, he stood up and smiled at her.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
She sat down across from him.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
He studied her carefully.
“You seem distracted.”
“I'm thinking.”
“About us?”
“Yeah.”
Thomas nodded.
“Me too.”
They ordered two coffees. Clara took a breath.
“I don't know what to call you anymore.”
He smiled.
“Thomas works just fine.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah.”
She looked at her hands.
“At first, you were my client.”
“I know.”
“And now, I don’t think of you that way anymore.”
“Neither do I.”
“But technically, nothing’s changed.”
Thomas stayed silent.
“Do you want it to change?”
Clara looked up.
“I don’t know.”
“Then let’s not decide anything tonight.”
She smiled.
“You’re always so reasonable.”
“With you, I try.”
They left the café and walked through the streets.
Clara felt his hand brush against hers. Eventually, he took it—a natural gesture.
It stirred something in her, more than she would have expected.
They’d shared far more intimate moments, but walking hand in hand down an ordinary street suddenly felt so much more significant.
They stopped in front of Clara’s building.
“Do you want to come up?”
Thomas looked at her.
“If you want.”
“I want.”
In her apartment, Clara set down her bag and took off her jacket. Thomas stayed near the door.
“You can sit down.”
“Thanks.”
She smiled.
“You seem nervous.”
“Because I don’t know what rules we have now.”
Clara moved closer.
“Maybe we don’t have any anymore.”
They looked at each other. Thomas gently placed a hand on her cheek. Clara closed her eyes and leaned into him. Their kiss was tender and slow. It no longer felt like an arranged meeting between a professional and a client. Just two people trying to understand what was happening to them.
They stayed wrapped in each other’s arms for a long time, speaking softly between silences.
Clara felt like she was seeing Thomas in a new light.
She already knew his gestures, his attentiveness, his gaze—but this evening in her apartment brought a new kind of intimacy.
They weren’t in some place chosen for their meetings.
They were at her place, surrounded by her books, her photographs, all the objects that made up her daily life.
Later, they settled on the couch.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Why do you keep paying me?”
Clara was quiet.
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
She considered it.
“Maybe because that’s how we met.”
“What if we stopped?”
She looked at him.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean if we’re really falling in love, I don’t want money standing between us.”
His words hit her deeply. She knew he was right. But she also felt a strange nostalgia at the thought of completely letting go of this part of their story.
“I’m afraid of losing something.”
“What?”
“A part of myself.”
Thomas took her hand.
“You won’t lose it.”
“You can’t know that.”
“No. But I can promise I’ll never try to decide for you.”
Clara rested her head against his shoulder.
“That’s why I love you.”
Thomas went still for a moment. Then he said softly,
“I love you too.”
They stayed like that, not speaking. For the first time, Clara heard those words without feeling the need to run.
The weeks that followed were a period of transition.
Clara continued to see Thomas regularly, but they started spending more time together outside of hotels.
They cooked, watched movies, went grocery shopping, took walks on Sunday mornings.
Ordinary activities, almost mundane, yet they meant everything to them.
One evening, Thomas asked her,
“Have you ever thought about stopping?”
Clara knew what he meant.
“Yes.”
“Often?”
“More and more.”
“Because you don’t like it anymore?”
She considered the question.
“It’s not that. I just feel like I don’t need to search for what I was looking for in the beginning anymore.”
Thomas didn’t answer right away.
“And what were you looking for?”
Clara smiled.
“I think I wanted to know who I was when no one was telling me how to be.”
“And did you?”
“Not completely.”
“Maybe you don't need a definitive answer.”
She looked at him.
“You know you're annoying when you say smart things like that?”
He laughed.
“I'll take that as a compliment.”
Clara moved closer to him. She knew something was about to change. She didn't want their relationship to stay trapped in the terms of how they'd first met.
One evening, after a long conversation, she finally made a decision.
“Thomas?”
“Yes?”
“I want to stop.”
He looked at her without surprise.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“For good?”
“For good.”
He took her hands.
“Then I'm proud of you.”
She smiled.
“You don't have to be.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
“Because you just made a choice for yourself.”
That night, Clara slept soundly.
The next morning, she sent a message to an employment agency a former colleague had recommended. She didn't know exactly what kind of work she wanted yet. She only knew she wanted to build something new.
Thomas never asked her to choose between him and her former life. He simply stayed by her side. And Clara realized that his presence might be the most precious thing he could give her.
A few days later, they were sitting in a restaurant when Thomas asked:
“What if we really tried?”
“Tried what?”
“Us.”
She smiled.
“I thought we already were.”
“I mean differently.”
She held his gaze for a long moment.
“You want to be my partner?”
“Yes.”
Clara took his hand.
“Then yes.”
That evening, when she got home, she looked one last time at the dress she'd worn on her first night out on the street.
She stood in front of the closet for several seconds before putting it away in a box.
She didn't want to erase it. She just wanted to give it a new place.
This dress represented the woman who had dared to cross a line.
The woman who had been afraid. The woman who had discovered her desires, her contradictions, her vulnerabilities.
But it also represented the beginning of a story she'd never anticipated. Clara closed the box.
Thomas was waiting for her in the living room.
“All done?”
She turned.
“Yes.”
“Are you ready?”
She smiled.
“I think so.”
Then she went and sat beside him. For the first time in a long while, Clara wasn't looking back. She was looking ahead.