---- Chapter 24 No.24 A few days later, Ben found Clare in the kitchen, staring intently at the little succulent on the windowsill. "You're going to scare it if you keep looking at it like that," he said, his tone light She smiled. "I'm trying to figure out if it needs more or less sun. | don't want to kill it." "It's a succulent," he said. "They thrive on neglect. A bit like a house cat." The easy banter felt good. Normal. "So," he said, leaning against the counter, his expression turning more serious. "That guy at the park the other day... I'm guessing he wasn't just a random stranger." Clare's smile faded. "No. That was Chase." Ben's jaw tightened slightly, the only sign of his reaction. "I figured. Is he going to be a problem?" "No," she said, her voice firm with a conviction that surprised even herself. "He's not going to be a problem anymore." She looked at Ben, wanting him to understand. "That part of my life is over. Truly over. He was... a lesson | had to learn, | guess." ---- Ben nodded, accepting her words without question. "Good," he said simply. He hesitated for a moment. "And us? What are we?" The question was direct, but gentle. Not a demand. A clarification. Clare looked at him. At his kind eyes, his steady presence. She felt a warmth for him, a deep and genuine affection. But love? The romantic kind? She wasn't sure she was capable of that yet. The machinery was still broken. "You," she said, her voice soft, "are my friend, Ben. My very, very good friend." He smiled, and there was no disappointment in it. Only understanding. "I can live with that," he said. "For now." He pushed off the counter. "Actually, the reason | came to find you... Isolde sent me. She wants to see us in her office." They found Isolde at her massive desk, looking over a set of architectural plans. "Ah, good," she said, looking up. "You're here." She gestured to the plans. "This is the preliminary design for the new gallery space." Clare looked at her, confused. "Gallery?" Yes," Isolde said, a rare, genuine smile on her face. "My company is funding a new community arts center downtown. Agallery, classrooms, studio spaces for emerging artists." She ---- tapped a section of the plans. "This will be the ceramics wing. And | need someone to run it. Someone with an artist's eye and a good head on their shoulders." She looked directly at Clare. The implication was staggering. Clare stared at her aunt, speechless. "Me?" she finally managed to whisper. "Of course, you," Isolde said. "Who else?" Ben spoke up, his voice warm with pride. "Isolde and | are co- chairing the foundation that's funding the project. We'd be working together. The three of us." Clare looked from her aunt's smiling face to Ben's. They weren't just offering her a job. They were offering her a future. A purpose. A chance to build something beautiful and lasting. Tears welled in her eyes. Not tears of sadness or pain, but of overwhelming gratitude. "|... | don't know what to say," she stammered. "Say you'll think about it," Isolde said gently. But Clare didn't need to think. She knew her answer. "Yes," she said, her voice clear and strong. "Yes. I'll do it." The word hung in the air, a promise. It was the beginning of ---- everything.