The Encounter
On the final night, Edward showed up.
Alone.
He stood silently before Exile, then turned—and found Claire standing nearby, a glass of wine in hand.
“I never wanted this to happen,” he said quietly.
“I know,” Claire replied. “But you let it.”
“I was scared… My parents—”
Claire raised a hand. “No excuses. I stood in the rain with your child, and you closed the door. That choice was yours.”
He swallowed. “Is there… any chance I could know him? Nathaniel?”
She looked at him—not with anger, but with resolve.
“Not up to me. Maybe one day, if he chooses. But don’t wait for it.”
Edward nodded slowly. “He still plays violin?”
She smiled. “Piano now. Chopin. He plays beautifully.”
Tears filled his eyes. “Tell him I’m sorry.”
“I will,” she said. “Maybe.”
Then she turned, calm and dignified, and walked away.
