The car eased into the narrow street just as the night began to turn midnight. Minho slowed instinctively, He parked in front of the house, switched off the engine, and sat still for a moment, hands resting on the wheel.
Clara slept beside him, curled slightly toward the window, her breathing soft and even. Whatever tension that had followed her through the mansion had loosened in sleep, leaving her face unguarded, almost peaceful. Minho looked at her quietly, then He got out of the car quietly and moved around to her side,unbuckled her seatbelt carefully, easing her toward him. She stirred once, brow creasing faintly, but did not wake. When he lifted her from the car, her head settled against his shoulder
"Easy," he murmured, though she couldn't hear him.
He closed the car door quietly behind him and carried Clara toward the house. She shifted once in his arms, murmuring something incoherent, then settled again, her head resting against his shoulder.
The house was dark inside. Minho didn't bother turning on the lights. He knew the way to everywhere in the house.
He took her straight to her room and laid her down carefully, adjusting her position so her neck wouldn't ache.. He pulled the duvet up to her shoulders and paused, watching her for a moment.
Sleep softened Clara in a way she rarely allowed when awake. Her brows were smooth, her lips parted slightly, the tension she carried like armor finally set aside. Minho sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, studying her face as though committing it to memory.
Unnie... you've done enough," he murmured.
She didn't stir.
After a few minutes, he stood, turned off the lamp, and retreated to his room, closing the door gently behind him.
The next day:
Clara woke up in crisis.
Her eyes flew open, heart racing, body tensing all at once.
Her first thought was i need to go and pee
She shot upright, legs clamped together, one hand flying instinctively to hold herself like sheer willpower might buy her time.
"Oh no no no—why is this happening now—" she whispered frantically.
Still half asleep, she staggered out of bed and took a step forward.
Unknowingly she walked straight into the wall.
Thud.
"Ow—!"
Pain exploded at her forehead.
She cried out and stumbled back, clutching her head as stars burst behind her eyes
She blinked and looked around.
Her dresser. Her mirror. Her posters crooked on the wall.
Her room.
"…Why am I home?"
Realization dawned slowly, followed immediately by fury.
"This," she muttered, pacing in tight circles while biting her nails, "is absolutely Minho's doing.
That idiot," she grumbled. "He brought me back."
She rushed to the bathroom just in time, grumbling the entire way. When she came out , her arms crossed tightly over her chest, the anger had fully settled in.
"MINHO!" she shouted, storming out of her room. "Minho! MINHO!"
She stormed down the hallway, stopping in front of his door and pounding on it like she meant to break it off its hinges.
"Minho!. "Come out here right now before I come in there and pounce on you, you sneaky, evil—!"
The door opened suddenly.
Minho stood there in a T-shirt and sleep-mussed hair, eyes half-closed, expression blank with exhaustion.
Unnie," he said, voice low and lazy. "What is it?"
Her restraint snapped.
She grabbed him by the collar and slammed him back against the wall.
"Why did you bring me back here?" she demanded, voice shaking. "Why didn't you ask me? Why didn't you wake me? Who gave you the right?"
Tears spilled over despite her anger, streaking down her cheeks.
"Why do you always decide things for me?" she cried.
Minho said nothing.
That silence hurt more than any argument could have.
"Fine," Clara said hoarsely, wiping her tears. "I'll go back myself."
She turned away, and walked to the main entrance
Minho moved fast.
He lifted her off the floor in one smooth motion.
"Minho!" she yelled, struggling. "Put me down!"
He didn't budge.
He carried her into his room and set her down just as firmly. She sprinted for the door, but it closed before she reached it. The lock clicked.
Clara froze.
Then she slid down the door slowly, knees drawn to her chest, shoulders shaking as she broke down completely.
Minho stood there, hands clenched at his sides, watching her cry until it felt unbearable.
When she didn't stop, and the sobs only grew heavier, he crossed the room and crouched in front of her, gripping her shoulders.
"Clara," he said, shaking her gently. "Look at me. Look at me."
She didn't.
"That place is not your home," he said, voice strained. "You don't belong there."
She cried harder.
"Please," he said, softer now. "Please stop crying."
Frustration broke through him.
"Stop wasting your tears on a place that will never choose you!"
"I want to go back," she whispered.
"Why?" he asked. "Why do you want to go back?"
She hesitated.
"If I tell you," she said quietly, "will you let me?"
"If it's worth it," he replied. "I will."
She swallowed.
"I want to go back," she said finally, "because of Jinho."
Minho's eyes widened.
"Clara…" he trailed off
She looked up at him, hope and fear tangled together.
"You can't," he said firmly. "He doesn't love you. Not even a little." He thinks of you as his sister. Clara look at me, you are three years older than him.
Her expression faltered.
"And you made a mistake," he continued, voice lowering. "Reassigning Bobae to the West Estate."
Clara went still.
"They told me you should not to be seen there for now," Minho said. And also "Dad wanted me to confine you."
Her breath hitched.
But I won't," he added. you're not going back." He said firmly.
He stood and unlocked the door.
"Go to your room," he said quietly. "It's six. Get some rest."
He stepped out.
Clara stayed where she was, knees tight to her chest, tears soaking into her sleeves as the weight of it all finally settled.
She cried until the morning fully arrived.