The hum of the engine filled the silence between us. The headlights cutting through the dark road ahead, streaks of fading orange still clinging to the horizon. Ravić's hands rested steady on the wheel, every movement calm and controlled. Too calm.
I kept my gaze on my window, watching the manor disappear behind the trees until it was gone. My throat tightened. I told myself not to cry. I've already missed our son. The way his tiny hands kept reaching out for me when I kissed him goodbye. It was just unbearable. My hands had never felt so empty.
A tear slipped free before I could stop it.
Without a word, Ravić reached over and clasped my hand. His thumb brushed over my knuckles with a quiet promise in the gesture.
"This is just temporary," he said, his voice low, roughened by exhaustion and something gentler beneath it. "He's safe. And we'll see him again before you know it."
