The air was thick with tension as Mia watched through the binoculars. She could see Claire standing with her father in the dimly lit park. The trees cast long shadows that seemed to stretch and yawn like the secrets they held. Claire's father, a tall man with a weathered face, had just pulled his daughter into a tight embrace. His voice, gruff yet tender, crackled through the speaker of Andrew's phone.
"Claire Bear," he said warmly, and though the nickname was childish, it seemed to carry a lifetime of affection. Mia could see the corners of Claire's mouth twitching upwards as she leaned into the embrace, a small smile fighting its way onto her lips.
As the hug ended, Claire's father finally noticed Matt standing off to the side. Matt, usually so composed and confident, looked almost awkward in that moment, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his jacket.
Claire's father turned to him, his tone shifting from warmth to a cold formality.
