The aroma of dishes from a five-star restaurant filled the long table area in the consulting team's conference room. Several senior staff members from Pratama Group had just left, leaving the Nexus Advisory team still wrestling with piles of paperwork in the middle of lunch.
Rayhan stood behind the glass partition of his office. From that angle, his gaze remained fixed on Clara, who sat at the end of the conference table.
In front of Clara sat a white porcelain meal box bearing the logo of a renowned French restaurant—a special lunch menu deliberately prepared by the company's private chef on Rayhan's direct orders. Inside was dairy-free seafood, exactly matching the food preferences Clara had once remembered so well.
"Clara, is this really a meal from Mr. Rayhan's office for our team?" Maya stared at her portion with sparkling eyes. "This is insane. It's so good. The client really goes all out for their consultants, huh?"
Clara did not answer. She merely formed a faint, formal smile.
Her hand reached for a spoon and took a few bites of the fruit salad at the edge of her plate, while the main course Rayhan had specially prepared remained completely untouched. Clara knew exactly who had ordered this menu. No operations staff member at Pratama Group knew the details of her preferences except the man who had once lived with her for three years.
But to Clara, hidden consideration like this was nothing more than a futile effort that had come far too late.
Click.
The glass door opened. Rayhan stepped inside under the pretext of checking the project progress documents. His formal suit was buttoned neatly again. His calm yet commanding stride carried him toward the conference table.
"How's lunch?" Rayhan's voice flowed softly, but his gaze was fixed on Clara's untouched porcelain box. "I asked the chef to prepare a special menu so the consulting team wouldn't get worn out."
The other team members nodded and politely thanked him. Clara rose from her seat and straightened the paper napkin beside her plate before looking at Rayhan.
"The amenities are extraordinary," Clara replied calmly. "However, you don't need to go to the trouble of preparing a special menu for me tomorrow or any day after that."
Rayhan's brows lifted slightly. A burning sensation began to spread through his chest when he saw that the food had not been touched.
"Was the quality not up to standard?" Rayhan asked. His voice grew quieter, leaving behind a demanding tremor he tried to hide from the other team members.
Clara looked at Rayhan without blinking. Her dark brown eyes radiated absolute calm.
"The food is excellent," Clara said matter-of-factly. "It's just that I'm more used to the simple food from the office cafeteria."
The words were spoken so gently, yet their meaning struck Rayhan directly in the solar plexus.
Clara was not merely rejecting the food. Indirectly, she was telling Rayhan that everything he had once known about her—her habits, her likes, even her tastes—was dead and no longer applied.
Rayhan clenched his fingers inside his trouser pocket. His ego felt as though it had been whipped in front of this silent room. He stared at Clara, searching her face for even the slightest hint of provocation or resentment. But all he found was emptiness.
"I see," Rayhan whispered hoarsely. A forced, faint smile appeared on his lips. "I understand."
Clara gave a slight bow. "If there's nothing else related to the audit files, we'll continue working."
Rayhan stood silently in place for two seconds that felt unbearably long. His presence in the room suddenly seemed so unnecessary.
Without saying another word, Rayhan turned and walked out of the consulting team's room.
When the glass door closed behind him, Rayhan watched through the partition as Clara returned to her seat, picked up her pen, and refocused her thoughts on the document—as if Rayhan's presence had merely been a passing breeze.
Rayhan rested his forehead against the cold glass of his own office. His head felt heavy, and his chest felt utterly hollow.
Back then, Clara had always tried to find out what Rayhan liked and cooked whatever he wanted, even though he had never spared her the slightest glance. Now, when Rayhan knelt and tried to remember every detail about Clara, she had thrown all those memories into the trash.