Roman POV
She got in the car without a word.
No screaming. No slaps. No questions.
Just silence.
And that silence was worse than anything she could’ve said.
I sat behind the wheel, soaked to the bone, hands still stained no matter how many times I’d wiped them on my jeans. I kept glancing sideways, trying to catch her eyes. But she wouldn’t look at me.
Not once.
She pressed herself against the door like she needed as much space from me as possible. Like I was toxic. Like she didn’t recognize the man sitting beside her anymore.
And maybe she didn’t.
The engine purred low, but inside the car it felt deafening. My thoughts were screaming.
Why did she follow me?
Why didn’t I notice?
What the f**k did she see?
How much did she hear?
She flinched once when I shifted gears. Flinche
