Chapter 79

The night stretches endlessly, a void swallowing everything in its path. The hum of the car engine is steady, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside me.

I press my forehead against the cool glass of the window, my fingers gripping my lap so tightly my knuckles ache. The city lights blur past, smearing together like an abstract painting, meaningless and distant.

I don't look back.

I can't.

Michael drives in silence. He doesn't say a word, doesn't fill the air with his usual smug remarks. But I feel his presence—steady, unwavering. He doesn't try to comfort me, doesn't offer empty reassurances.

Maybe he understands that right now, I don't need words.

I need space to breathe.

My mother sits in the backseat, just as quiet, her hands folded in her lap. I can feel her eyes on me, filled with unspoken concern, but she doesn't push.

The weight of what I just did presses against my chest, threatening to suffocate me.

I left him.