I Don't Need Love

"Clara," Dylan's voice came through, warm and familiar. "It's been a while. How are you?"

"I'm... good," Clara replied, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Aiden wasn't nearby. "What about you? Is everything okay?"

Dylan chuckled softly, the sound stirring something deep within her.

"Everything's fine. I just... I've been thinking about you lately. Wondering how you've been. I know it's been a while, but I was hoping we could catch up. Maybe grab a coffee or something?"

Clara's chest tightened. She knew she should say no. Meeting Dylan would only complicate things, and her life was already complicated enough. But in the brief silence that followed, she realized something: she needed this.

Not for him, but for herself.

She needed to see him one last time, to say the things she had left unsaid, and to finally close the door in the past..

"Alright," she said finally, her voice firm despite the flutter in her stomach. "Tomorrow. There's a café near my office—The Daily Grind. Meet me there at noon."

Dylan's voice brightened, and she could almost hear the smile in his words. "I'll be there. Thanks, Clara."

As she ended the call, Clara stared at her reflection in the mirror, her resolve solidifying with each passing second. She had made up her mind: she would meet Dylan, but only to say goodbye. She would make it clear that their chapter was over, that she had moved on. After all, she was Aiden's wife now.

Since she was married, it was only right to cut ties with Dylan and leave the past behind. Although her marriage to Aiden was nothing more than a business arrangement, she didn't like to complicate things. It was time to look forward and simplify her life.

When Aiden returned, Clara slipped her phone back into her purse and forced a smile. "Everything okay?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

Aiden nodded, though his eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than usual. "Just fine. Ready to keep going?"

Clara nodded, but her mind was elsewhere. The rest of the gallery visit passed in a blur, her thoughts consumed by the decision she had made and the meeting that awaited her tomorrow.

After leaving the art gallery, Aiden suggested they head to the racetrack. Clara hesitated for a moment, still distracted by the phone call with Dylan, but she agreed, hoping the adrenaline of the racetrack might help clear her mind.

When they arrived, the roar of engines filled the air, and the sight of sleek, high-performance cars lined up on the track was enough to pull Clara out of her thoughts, at least temporarily.

Aiden, clearly in his element, led her to a shiny black sports car, its polished exterior gleaming under the track lights.

"You're not serious," Clara said, raising an eyebrow as Aiden tossed her a helmet.

"Dead serious," he replied with a grin. "Come on, Clara. Live a little. You've been cooped up in that office of yours for too long."

Clara hesitated but eventually gave in, sliding into the passenger seat. As Aiden revved the engine and sped down the track, Clara couldn't help but laugh, the adrenaline rushing through her veins.

The wind whipped through her hair, and for a moment, all her worries—about Dylan, about her marriage, about everything—faded into the background.

When they finally came to a stop, Clara turned to Aiden, her cheeks flushed. "Okay, I'll give you this one. That was... fun."

Aiden's grin widened. "Told you. Now you're starting to see why I love this stuff."

Clara shook her head, but she couldn't suppress a smile. She felt like she hadn't felt alive in a long time, and she had to admit, Aiden's playful charm was starting to grow on her.

As the sun began to set, Aiden surprised Clara with a reservation at a rooftop restaurant overlooking the city. The atmosphere was intimate, with soft music playing in the background and the sky painted in hues of orange and pink.

Clara looked around, impressed. "This is... nice."

Aiden pulled out her chair, his tone light but sincere. "Thought we could end the day on a high note. Plus, it's a good opportunity to practice our 'loving couple' act."

Clara chuckled, sitting down. "Fair enough. But let's keep the PDA to a minimum, okay?"

Aiden held up his hands in mock surrender. "No promises."

As they ate, the conversation flowed more easily than Clara had expected. They talked about their childhoods, their favorite books, and even their dreams for the future.

Clara found herself laughing more than usual, and she felt like she was beginning to understand the man behind the playboy persona.

They were seated at a table near the edge of the rooftop, with the city skyline stretching out before them. Clara took a sip of her wine, her mind swirling with the day's events. The art gallery, the racetrack, and now this—it had been a whirlwind of a day, and she wasn't sure how to process it all.

-

The next day, Clara arrived at The Daily Grind a few minutes early. The café was cozy, with the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air.

She spotted Dylan immediately, sitting at a corner table, his familiar smile lighting up his face as he saw her. For a moment, her heart wavered, but she quickly steadied herself. This was not a reunion; it was a farewell.

"Clara," Dylan said as she approached, standing to greet her. "You look amazing."

"Thanks," she replied, forcing a polite smile as she sat down. "You haven't changed much either."

They ordered coffee and exchanged small talk for a few minutes, catching up on work and mutual acquaintances. But Clara could feel the tension beneath the surface, the unspoken questions hanging in the air.

Finally, Dylan leaned forward, his expression softening. "Clara," he began, his voice gentle, "I know this is... complicated. And I don't want to make things harder for you. But I've missed you. I've missed us. And I can't help but wonder if there's still a chance for us."

Clara's heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, but she didn't falter. "Dylan," she said, her tone firm but kind, "I care about you. I always will. But things have changed. I'm married now. And I think… we need to move forward, Dylan."

Dylan hesitated, then sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I understand. But Clara, there's something you should know. Aiden... he's my younger brother. I know him. I know how he is. He's charming, yes, but he's also a playboy. He's not the kind of man who settles down easily."

"I know. So what?" Clara's voice lowered, trembling as she fought to suppress the anger and resentment simmering within her.

"So I finally know why you suddenly disappeared!"

"So I know you left me because you were afraid of losing your family's power and influence!"

"So I know you were willing to let me marry your brother just to secure your place in the family!"

"If you chose to walk away back then, why are you here now, telling me how terrible Aiden is? What do you even want, Dylan?!"

Her words hung heavy in the air, charged with months of pent-up frustration and pain. She still remembered the crushing helplessness she had felt when her family had coerced her into marrying Aiden.

Back then, she had desperately tried calling Dylan, dialing his number over and over, only to be met with the cold, mechanical tone of an unreachable line. Her family had insisted—cruelly, relentlessly—that Dylan had already given up on her, that he had chosen to comply with their demands. If it hadn't been for their manipulation, she would never have agreed to marry someone she barely knew.

That sense of betrayal, that feeling of abandonment, had haunted her ever since—a wound that had never fully healed.

As the words spilled out, Clara reached up to touch the tears on her cheeks, surprised by her own outburst.