Chapter 115: Clara Whitmore Dangled the Ceramic Figurine in Front of Elias Mercer

Clara Whitmore dangled the ceramic figurine in front of Elias Mercer. "Look, this expression is so you."

Elias raised an eyebrow at her.

"Now it doesn’t look like you anymore." She pouted and shoved the figurine into his hand.

He took it, his fingers brushing over the smooth ceramic surface. "Thanks."

"Green light." Clara pointed across the street.

* * *

The apartment was silent in the early hours.

Clara pushed open the door to a spotless interior. The cleaning service she’d booked before her trip had done an impeccable job—even the potted plants on the windowsill were neatly trimmed.

Hot water washed away her exhaustion. She sank into the fluffy bedding, breathing in the familiar lavender scent, and sighed contentedly.

Home was best.

Elias’s apartment still had its lights on.

With his experiment at a critical stage, he’d barely had time to spare for the airport trip. After showering and changing into a fresh shirt, he grabbed his coat to head out.

The ceramic figurine stood quietly in the center of the bookshelf.

He paused mid-step.

It really did resemble him.

* * *

By mid-January, heavy snow blanketed the entire city.

Clara pulled back the curtains to a world of white. Before eight, children’s laughter already drifted up from downstairs.

She bundled up in her down jacket and headed out for groceries.

A row of snowmen lined the courtyard, the tallest one sporting a pink pinwheel like a chubby Doraemon. Clara stopped to admire them before plucking a cherry tomato from her basket and giving one snowman a red nose.

A long queue snaked in front of the butcher’s stall. She selected a prime cut of beef ribs, planning to make half into spicy jerky and the other half into soup.

Knock knock knock—

The doorbell rang just as the aroma of beef broth filled the kitchen.

Mrs. Walker from the third floor stood at the door, holding a box of celebration cookies. "We’ve welcomed a baby girl. Sharing the joy with everyone."

Clara hastily wiped her hands and accepted them. "Congratulations!"

She turned to retrieve homemade pastries and sauces from the fridge. "Please try these."

"Oh, I couldn’t—"

"Consider it taste-testing for me." Clara smiled as she pressed them into her hands.

Mrs. Walker suddenly lowered her voice. "By the way, Professor Mercer next door is never home. Could you pass these to him? I need to rush to the hospital with dinner."

Before Clara could respond, the elevator doors closed with a ding.