Val and I didn't talk about it for the rest of the day.
Not in between classes, not when professors called on me and I rattled off answers like nothing was wrong.
Not even when she slipped her hand into the crook of my arm as if to say 'see, everything's fine'.
I went through the motions—scribbling notes, nodding at classmates, staring at the board like it all mattered.
But the silence between us wasn't natural.
It wasn't the easy kind we usually had.
It was thick.
Stiff.
The kind that settled heavy in my chest until it was hard to breathe.
Even the drive back felt wrong. Usually, Val filled the car with her voice—singing off-key to whatever song came on, teasing me about my playlists, pointing at random things outside the window just to get a reaction.
This time, she leaned her head against the glass, quiet, her reflection pale in the late afternoon light.
And me?
I gripped the wheel and tried not to notice how suffocating the silence had become.
