The car, a sleek black sedan, hummed quietly beneath them, a cocoon of quiet luxury against the storm raging outside. Rain lashed against the windshield, blurring the city lights into shimmering streaks of color. The rhythmic swish of the wipers provided a steady counterpoint to the unspoken conversation, a steady beat against the chaotic rhythm of Carole's heart. The faint scent of Royce's cologne, a subtle blend of sandalwood and spice, hung in the air, a heady mix that both comforted and unsettled her. The plush leather seats, usually a source of comfort, now felt constricting, a physical manifestation of the pressure she felt.
Royce leaned back in his seat, his gaze fixed on the rain-streaked windshield. The low hum of the engine and the rhythmic swish of the wipers created a strangely intimate atmosphere, a sanctuary from the outside world and the complexities of the situation.