The drive was long and silent. Mira sat in the passenger seat, legs bare, collar snug around her throat, white cotton dress soft against her skin. The hem barely reached the top of her thighs. She didn’t wear panties. He hadn’t allowed them. Her bag was in the trunk, but she knew she wouldn’t need anything inside it. He hadn’t told her where they were going. She hadn’t asked. There was no more need for questions. She was his wife. And this was their escape.
Trees lined the narrow road, tall and dense, the kind that blocked out noise and light. The further they drove, the quieter it became. The world outside faded, like her past life was dissolving behind her. When they reached the cabin, tucked between pines and stone, Mira didn’t feel fear. She felt exactly what she had written about on
