I Don't Need Love

Aiden straightened up, a flicker of something—curiosity, perhaps, or something else—stirring within him. He stepped forward, his charming smile in place.

"Clara," he called out, his voice smooth and warm.

Clara looked up, surprised to see him. For a moment, her composure faltered, but she quickly regained her poise. "Aiden," she said, her tone neutral. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I'd pick you up," he replied, his smile never wavering. "It's been a long day, and I figured we could have dinner together. You know, keep up appearances."

Clara nodded, understanding the unspoken message. She turned to Kason. "Thank you for your help today, Kason. I'll see you tomorrow."

Kason's gaze flickered between Clara and Aiden, his expression unreadable. "Of course," he said calmly, though a hint of uncertainty lingered in his eyes. "See you, Clara."

As Kason walked away, Aiden couldn't help but feel a twinge of irritation—not out of love, but simply a man's possessiveness. After all, she was his wife.

However, Aiden quickly realized he couldn't let Clara sense his emotions, so he carefully tucked them away.

"Shall we?" Aiden asked, offering Clara his arm.

She hesitated for a moment, then took it. "Let's."

As they walked to the car, Aiden couldn't shake the image of Clara and Kason together. Their unspoken atmosphere showed the trust they had in each other. But then he pushed the feeling aside, focusing instead on the role he had to play.

"So," he said as they drove off, "how was your day?"

Clara glanced at him, a small smile playing on her lips. "It was… productive. Yours?"

"Same old, same old," Aiden replied, his tone light. "But it's always more interesting when you're around."

Clara raised an eyebrow, amused. "Flattery, Aiden? That's new."

He chuckled. "Just keeping things interesting."

As they drove through the city, the lights casting a warm glow over the streets, Clara felt a strange sense of comfort.

A few days later, Aiden surprised Clara by suggesting they spend the day together.

"We're supposed to be a married couple," he said, leaning against the doorway of her home office. "If we're going to keep up appearances, we should at least know each other well enough to not look like complete strangers in public."

Clara looked up from her laptop, raising an eyebrow. "And what exactly do you propose we do?"

Aiden smirked, his playful charm on full display. "How about a day out? Just the two of us. No work, no obligations. We can call it... research."

Clara hesitated. The idea of spending an entire day with Aiden was both intriguing and unnerving. But he had a point—if they were going to keep up their façade, they needed to at least know the basics about each other.

"Alright," she said finally. "But I'm choosing the first activity."

Aiden's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Deal. Where are we going?"

Clara looked at Aiden, returning a mysterious smile.

When the agreed day arrived, Clara took Aiden to a contemporary art gallery downtown. It was one of her favorite places to escape, and she was curious to see how Aiden would react to something so far removed from his usual world of business and social events.

As they walked through the exhibits, Clara found herself explaining the meaning behind each piece. Aiden listened intently, asking thoughtful questions and even offering his own interpretations.

Clara was surprised by how engaged he was—and how much she enjoyed sharing this part of herself with him.

"I didn't take you for an art enthusiast," Clara said as they stood in front of a large abstract painting.

Aiden shrugged, his hands in his pockets. "I'm not, really. But I like seeing you like this. You're... different when you talk about art. More relaxed."

Clara didn't know how to respond to Aiden's words, so she just smiled. As they moved to the next exhibit, Aiden gently touched her arm. They stood close, their shoulders almost touching, creating an unspoken connection between them.

In one particularly captivating moment, they both reached out to point at the same part of a painting, their fingers brushing briefly. Clara's heart skipped a beat at the unexpected contact, and she noticed Aiden's eyes softening as he gazed at her.

Just then, a phone rang, interrupting the moment between them.

She glanced at the screen, and a wave of unease washed over her when she saw the name: Dylan.

Her stomach twisted. Dylan—her confidant, the man who had always been there for her during the most challenging moments of her career. The man who had, at one point, been more than just a friend.

She hadn't spoken to him since he suddenly disappeared from her life. She didn't know why he would call her now. Seeing his name felt like a jolt, a reminder of a connection she had tried to bury.

Aiden noticed her hesitation, his sharp eyes catching the way her fingers tightened around her phone.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his tone casual but his gaze probing.

Clara forced a smile, slipping the phone back into her purse. "Just fine. Nothing important."

Aiden nodded, though she could tell he didn't entirely believe her. He turned back to the painting, but Clara's focus was shattered.

Her mind raced, torn with a mix of heartache and curiosity.

Why was Dylan calling now?

What did he want?

And more importantly, why did she feel so unsettled by the thought of talking to him?

As they moved through the gallery, Clara's thoughts kept drifting back to the phone call. She tried to push it aside, to focus on the art and the conversation with Aiden, but the buzzing in her mind wouldn't stop.

She found herself replaying memories of late-night conversations with Dylan, the way he always seemed to know exactly what to say to make her laugh or calm her down.

There had been a time when she had wondered if they could be more than friends, but life—and her family's expectations—had pulled them in different directions.

When Aiden excused himself to take a call of his own, Clara seized the moment. She stepped into a quiet corner of the gallery, her heart pounding as she pulled out her phone and stared at Dylan's name.

Her finger hovered over the screen, torn between answering and letting it go to voicemail. Finally, she took a deep breath and answered. "Dylan," she said, her voice low and cautious. "Hi."