The ride home was quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that pressed against your chest until breathing felt like work. I wasn't sure how I'd even ended up in the car; one second, Val had pulled up outside the office, and the next, I was sitting beside her, hands motionless on my knees, watching the city lights blur by through the window.
She didn't say a word. Neither did I. The air between us felt heavy, thick with everything that hadn't been said in the office. I opened my mouth once—twice—but the words stuck, dissolving before I could even form them. What could I possibly say? "It's not what it looked like"? Even I hated how hollow that sounded in my head.
By the time we pulled up to the house, my nerves were a knot in my stomach. We stepped inside and I couldn't take it anymore.
"Val…" My voice came out softer than I meant. "I—"
She stopped mid-step and turned to face me.
