Till Dawn (HS)

epilogue

four years later

~

The clenching of Clara's jaw and the vigorous speed at which she was whisking the bowl of egg whites was a sure sign of her irritation. Her lips were puckered and her soft skin was in creases as she imagined the fluffy egg whites as his handsome face, and let the whisk beat them aggressively. She was the boss, and Clara didn't approve of anyone threatening that, especially when her estrogen levels were raging at all-time highs. It was only a matter of time before he found her there, so her thoughts were running as quickly as the whisk in her grasp to come up with a mouthful of insults to throw at him. She caught sight of the ring around her finger, glimmering under the light in the kitchen, and the memory of when it was first put on nearly made her anger fade. Nearly.

"Clara?!"

And there he was. Clara tore her eyes away from the metal band. She huffed and spun around, the handle of the whisk still tight in her grasp as she raised her eyebrow challengingly. Harry stared back at her with wide eyes, obviously surprised to see her. However, the shock faded quickly and his face turned into a scowl.

"What are you doing here?" he accused, his voice reaching a dangerously low octave. He stepped closer to Clara and his eyes traveled over the length of her body, as if searching for any damage.

"This is my restaurant," she hissed through clenched teeth, pointing the whisk viciously at him. "I have every right to be here."

"Our restaurant," Harry corrected her under his breath. The emerald eyes returned to her menacing face and she saw the anger swirling amid the brilliant hues of green, along with worry. Harry shoved a hand through his short hair (Clara had recently forced him to cut it for when her grandparents visited), and released his growing frustration in the form of a weighted sigh. His tongue swiped over his lips apprehensively before he approached her, placing his hand over her stiff shoulder. He could practically feel the steam rolling out of her pores as she glared up at him. She didn't look intimidating in the slightest.

"I thought I made myself clear last night," he murmured to her, attempting to keep his tone soft. As of recently, she didn't react well to him whenever he raised his voice.

"You did," Clara shrugged his hand off, turned around, and went back to beating the eggs. "You made yourself very clear, Harry. That doesn't mean I'm going to listen to your bullshit, though."

"It's not bullshit!" He took a deep breath, nostrils flaring, before brushing his hand against hers to soften his approach. "Baby, I only want this because I care about you," Harry muttered.

Clara's eyes rolled in defiance. "You're trying to control me, Harry, and I don't like it one bit."

"Control you? You aren't serious," he scoffed in disbelief. "This is the only thing that I have ever told you to do, and you aren't listening to me."

"Because the only person I listen to is myself," she bit back with annoyance lacing her sweet voice. Harry was certain she was only acting this way because she was looking for a fight, a way to exert the pain in her spine and stomach and everywhere else that she had been complaining about for the last month. "I want to cook, so here I am. Nothing you say will stop me."

"Fine, fuck." Harry gave in with a defeated huff and his shoulders slumped. "Do whatever the hell you want. It's not like I care."

He watched her roll her eyes again and he forced back his irritation before walking around to the opposite side of the counter to start preparing the flood of pepper steak orders. He could have easily asked for one of the other chefs to do it, and Clara knew this as she flickered hers briefly at him, but Harry wanted to keep an eye on her. This only frustrated the petite brunette even more; why was he treating her like a damn child? Her twenty-fourth birthday had just passed. She was a woman and she could do whatever she pleased without having her husband watch over her like an embarrassing, overbearing father.