Your Love Is But a Dream (Clara and Wren) novel Chapter 116

An umbrella appeared, shielding Wren from the rain. His eyelashes fluttered slightly as he slowly turned to look behind him.

That familiar, delicate face came into view.

Wren's throat tightened, and his voice came out hoarse as he said, "Clara…"

Clara looked at him, all drenched and utterly miserable. She tilted the umbrella toward him, her fingers tightening around the handle.

"Why are you still here?"

Her face was backlit by the dim light, making it hard to read her emotions.

Wren's gaze dimmed, and he turned away, staring out into the pitch-black wilderness, his entire posture radiating desolation and loneliness.

Clara's grip on the umbrella tightened. Seeing him like this stirred something deep within her.

In her mind, Wren had always been strong. She'd seen his gentleness, attentiveness, and rebellious streak, but rarely had she witnessed him vulnerable like this. She couldn't quite put into words what she felt when she found him curled up there.

Especially when he looked at her—he looked like a stray dog, lost and homeless.

The rain lashed against his face, his clothes soaked through, and his expression wasn't just forlorn. It held a quiet hope, as if he were waiting for something from her.

Before she even realized it, the umbrella in her hand had tilted toward him.

"Why are you out here?" Wren stood up from the ground and gently adjusted the umbrella.

He frowned when he noticed her thin, knit sweater. "It's cold. You should go back inside and rest."

Clara reminded herself not to soften, but when his fingers brushed against hers, the cold seeped deep into her bones. Even his face had lost some color from the chill.

She wondered if she left him out there, would Wren freeze to death?

"The temperature drops really low at night. If you don't want to freeze or get sick, you should contact someone and find a place to stay."

Standing in the living room, Clara finally took a good look at him. His lips were pale from the cold, and his whole body felt frozen to the core. His clothes were completely soaked.

Clara was concerned that Wren might get sick after recalling Alexander's high fever from a few days ago, which would only complicate things further.

She hurriedly said, "There's hot water upstairs. Go take a shower and change into dry clothes. I'll make some soup."

Hearing the concern in her voice, Wren's eyes softened with a faint smile.

He unconsciously stepped closer to her, about to say something, but Clara didn't give him the chance. She turned and walked toward the kitchen.

Seeing her deliberately avoid him, Wren swallowed the words he was about to say. He took his suitcase upstairs after one last glance at her.

Soon, the sound of water running from the bathroom filled the air.

In the kitchen, Clara took out some tomatoes, planning to make tomato soup to warm him up, hoping he wouldn't fall ill during his stay.