The Invisible Girl's Parisian Escape

e y

he girl who had fled Veridia in a haze of heartbreak was a ghost, a black-and-white

ce determination. I poured every ounce of my pain and anger into my work. My designs, once soft and romantic, became bold, architectural, and

t Clara anymore; I was Clara Dubois, a name whispered with respect in the competitive world of high-end textile design. I had

s the one constant thread connecting my past and present. She was my anchor

hie, even a letter sent to his parents' old address. I never responded. The cliffhanger of that night, his hand on my wrist, his phone ringing with his fi

strange, fleeting warmth. A question mark. In the lonely early days in Paris, I had sometimes found myself wondering

ail with a subject line that made my heart stop: "An

t of Veridia. Thorne Tower was set to be an architectural marvel, a symbol of the city's future. And they wanted me-or rather, the Parisian firm I worked

had called me into her office. The room sme

. "You are from Veridia, non? You are our best. Our

of memories I had no desire to visit. The thought of walking those stree

ition whispered. *This is ev

itement for me. She pushed a piece of cheese towards me on a knife. "Clara, this isn't you running back to the past. Thi

was a luxury I cou

appear through the clouds. The landing at Veridia International Airport was a surreal

ent I'd once lived in. My room overlooked the city, and there, dominating the skyline, was the s

ver would have dared to wear five years ago. My hair was cut in a chic, no-nonsense bob. My he

nd ambition. People in expensive suits moved with purpose, their faces set with determination. I

ah' directed me to the 40th-floor conference room. "Mr.

ic bird. *It's just a meeting. He probably won't ev

w of the city. A long, polished mahogany table was surrounded by a dozen people-the executi

ead of the t

an T

hair had a few distinguished threads of silver at the temples. He wore a dark grey suit that fit him like a second skin,

same stormy, blue-grey eyes-met m

almost imperceptible widening of his eyes befor

membe

with stunning clarity: the cold rain, the warmth of his jacket, the concern in his voice. He

nts commanding the atte

but now it was clipped, professional, and held a dangerous edge. "Welc

fleeting moment of recognition, the past and the present had collided with the forc

-