ISABELLA
The drive home was suffocating.
Not a word passed between us. Not a glance. Not even the smallest shift in the air that suggested we were still two people sharing the same space. The silence wasn’t peaceful — it was a blade pressed between us, sharp enough to draw blood with every mile.
Adrian kept his eyes on the road, jaw clenched, hands gripping the wheel like he was holding himself together by force. I stared out the window, watching the city lights smear into streaks of gold and white, the same way they had blurred when I stumbled down the staircase at the gala.
I didn’t cry or speak. I didn’t breathe properly. I just sat there, hollowed out, replaying the same question over and over: Why did it have to be her? It just made Vanessa's words to me more real and it's maddeni
