Kendrick's POV
The ride home that evening felt too long, even though it barely took thirty minutes.
Christy sat quietly beside me, her fingers brushing against the faint curve of her stomach, lost in thought.
The streetlights flashed across her face in intervals, revealing a weariness that made my chest ache.
Neither of us spoke for a while. The air between us was thick with things we didn't know how to say yet.
My mind kept replaying what happened at the hospital, the argument with my mother, the look in Christy's father's eyes, the humiliation in Christy's silence.
It was all tangled together in my head like a mess I couldn't untie.
When we reached home, I parked the car and just sat there for a minute, staring out the windshield. The night outside was quiet, except for the hum of crickets and the soft whoosh of the wind against the trees.
Christy turned to me slowly.
"You have been quiet the whole time," she said softly and I forced a small smile.
