“Just a Scarf”

Suzuka ended on Sunday. By Monday evening, Silverstone was already cold beneath their feet. London did not feel like a city that welcomed people. It felt like a place that expected them to keep up. Jonas noticed it first when they stepped out of the car. The air pressed in immediately, not harsh, just firm. He adjusted his jacket without thinking and followed the team through the hotel doors.

Check-in moved quickly. Names, cards, a brief exchange that sounded the same everywhere. Elevators split them by floor. Elias said something about dinner options. Jonas nodded and listened without responding. In the room, he dropped his bag near the bed and took his jacket off. It landed over the chair, sleeve brushing the floor. He didn’t pick it up.

He sat down, elbows resting on his knees, and stayed there longer than necessary. Not tired enough to sleep. Not restless enough to move. Elias was already scrolling through his phone, half-talking about Tuesday. Jonas let the words pass through without stopping them. Across the city, Clara’s arrival looked much the same. Different hotel. Different corridor. Same quiet efficiency.

She showered first, changed, then stood by the window for a moment, watching traffic move without pattern. The city hummed in a way that never fully settled. She checked the time, then picked up her phone.

Jonas answered when it rang.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” Clara replied. Her voice sounded clearer than it had earlier in the day. Less airport in it.

“You’re in already?”

“Yeah. Just unpacking.”

“Same here.”

She shifted on her end. He heard fabric move, then the soft sound of something being set down. “This city feels colder than I expected,” she said.

“It always does,” Jonas replied. “Even when it isn’t.”

“That makes sense somehow.”

He leaned back against the headboard. “How was your flight?”

“Quiet. Long enough to forget where I was going halfway through.”

“Those are the worst ones.”

“Exactly.”

Silence slid in without pressure. Jonas watched the light from the street flicker against the ceiling. After a moment, Clara spoke again. “What are you doing tomorrow morning?” He didn’t answer immediately. Not because he needed to think, but because the question wasn’t sharp. It didn’t demand urgency.

“Nothing until later,” he said. “Briefing is pushed back.”

There was a pause on her end. Not hesitation. More like decision forming.

“Do you want to go out for a bit?” she asked. “Just into the city. Shopping or something simple.”

Jonas smiled faintly, though no one could see it. “That sounds good.”

“Really?”

“Yeah”, Jonas said. 

Another pause. Shorter this time.

“Okay,” she said. “Then let’s do that.”

“What time?”

“Late morning. Not too early.”

“Works for me.”

She exhaled, the sound quiet but relieved. “Good.”

They talked a little longer, about nothing that mattered much. The hotel rooms. The way London felt heavier than Suzuka. How neither of them felt like eating yet. Eventually, Clara said, “I should sleep before I forget how.”

“Probably a good idea,” Jonas replied.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

The call ended naturally, without dragging. Jonas lay back and stared at the ceiling, the faintest sense of anticipation settling in, not loud enough to name.

Tuesday morning arrived quietly.

Jonas told the team he needed to step out for a while. Elias barely reacted, eyes still on his phone, thumb scrolling without pause. Someone murmured an acknowledgment that might not have been meant for him. Clara gave a similar explanation on her end, phrased differently, absorbed just as easily. No questions. No curiosity. Exactly how it had to be. Outside, the city had already settled into itself. London moved even when it didn’t hurry. Grey sky. Grey pavement. Breath visible in short bursts.

The cold wasn’t sharp, just persistent, the kind that worked its way in slowly and stayed. Jonas adjusted his jacket as he walked, shifting the strap of the small bag in his hand. It felt too light. He noticed that, then stopped thinking about it. She was already there. Not standing still, not looking around — just moving slowly near the corner, pretending to read something on her phone. Clara looked up when she sensed him more than saw him, pausing for a fraction of a second before lifting her hand in a small, uncertain wave.

“Morning,” he said.

“Morning,” she replied. Her voice came out softer than she probably meant it to. Her breath fogged, then disappeared.

They didn’t comment on being on time. They didn’t comment on the weather. They just started walking. Side by side. Close enough to share space. Far enough to keep it safe. The street wasn’t crowded yet. A bakery was opening down the block. Somewhere, metal shutters rattled upward. Shop windows glowed warmly against the cold, reflections overlapping with passing cars.

Clara slowed near the first storefront. Gloves, neatly arranged, different colors folded into careful stacks. She leaned closer without realizing it, hands pressing together as she rubbed them lightly, once, then again. Jonas noticed. Not all at once. Just… enough. She picked up a pair, turning them over in her hands. Tested the lining with her thumb. “These are nice,” she murmured, not really asking anything.

“They look warm,” he said.

She smiled — quick, almost embarrassed, and set them back where she’d found them. Tugged her sleeves down again. They moved on. Inside the next shop, she wandered without direction. Picked things up. Put them down. A notebook with thick pages. A charm shaped like a cat she tapped once before leaving it behind. A tiny bell she shook softly, then laughed at herself and placed back carefully, as if apologizing to it.

Jonas followed at an unhurried distance. Every so often, she glanced back to see if he was still there. He always was. When she laughed at a misspelled sign taped near the counter, the sound was small but real. Jonas felt it settle somewhere low in his chest, warm in a way he didn’t examine too closely.

A few minutes later, she clasped her hands together again. Rubbed them. Subtle. Almost absent. Jonas slowed.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, already turning. “Bathroom.”

She blinked, processing the suddenness. “Ah— okay.”

He didn’t wait for anything else.

The scarf shop was close. He hadn’t noticed it earlier, which irritated him a little. Warm air washed over him as he stepped inside, the contrast enough to make him pause. Rows of fabric. Too many choices. He stood there longer than necessary before the shopkeeper approached, smiling in a way that suggested she already understood more than she needed to.

“Looking for something?”

“…A scarf,” he said.

A pause. Then, quieter, almost reluctant: “For someone.”

She nodded immediately. Didn’t ask questions. Reached for one folded neatly on a shelf. Pale. Simple. Soft without looking fragile. “This one keeps the cold out,” she said.

Jonas touched it once, testing the weight. Then nodded. “I’ll take it.”

When he stepped back outside, the cold bit again. Clara was where he’d left her, standing a little closer to the shop window now, fingers hovering over the glass as if tempted to trace something. She turned when she heard him.

“That was fast,” she said.

“Yeah.”

They walked a little farther before the cold seemed to catch up again. Clara tucked her chin into her collar, shoulders drawing in. Her steps slowed. Jonas stopped. Before she could ask why, he stepped behind her. The scarf settled around her neck gently. Warm. Unexpected. She froze.

“W–what—?” Her hands flew up as she turned halfway. “Where did this come from?”

He had already stepped back, expression calm, eyes just a little unsure. “You were cold.”

Her fingers tightened around the fabric. “…You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” he said. “Just… take it.”

She didn’t answer right away. Her cheeks warmed quickly, color spreading in a way she couldn’t hide. “…It’s really beautiful,” she said, voice smaller now.

“It suits you.”

She nodded, clutching it closer. “…Thank you.”

They walked after that without much talking. Not awkward. Just quiet. The city felt less sharp somehow. Or maybe they were warmer now. The café was small, tucked between two shops, windows fogged from the inside. Clara sighed softly the moment they stepped in, as if she hadn’t realized how cold she’d been until it stopped. They sat across from each other. Jonas ordered hot chocolate. Clara got tea and wrapped both hands around the cup before drinking anything.

She watched the steam rise. “This helps.”

He nodded, breaking a pastry in half a little too roughly. Crumbs scattered. She noticed and slid a napkin toward him without comment. He caught it, paused, then smiled faintly.

She stirred her tea slowly. Once. Twice. “…A little sweet,” she murmured, not explaining further.

He hummed, amused. Their eyes met briefly. Then both looked away, a quiet laugh slipping out between them — not planned, not loud.

Outside again, the cold felt manageable.

They wandered a little more. A toy shop. A stand selling keychains. Clara picked one up, turning it over.

“This one’s cute.”

Jonas leaned closer, tapping it lightly. “Yeah.”

She glanced at him. “…You’re smiling.”

“…Am I?”

She laughed, shaking her head, and put the keychain back. By the time they reached the corner again, the afternoon had arrived without anyone announcing it.

Clara stopped first. “I should head back.”

“Yeah.”

They stood there longer than necessary. She adjusted the scarf once more, fingers lingering.

“I will treasure it.”

Jonas looked away slightly. “You really don’t have to… it’s just a scarf.”

She smiled — soft, shy — then turned and walked away, glancing back once before disappearing into the crowd. Jonas waited until she was gone before heading the other way. Different hotels. Different paths. But the warmth stayed.