The rest of the drive was silent.
Not the kind of silence that asks to be filled, but the kind that settles deep into your bones. That suffocates you slowly. Jason didn't say another word, and neither did I. My arms stayed crossed, my body angled toward the window, away from him.
I couldn't look at him.
I couldn't feel anything without unraveling.
When we finally pulled into the apartment parking garage, the engine cut off with a low hum. He didn't move. Just sat there, gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
I opened my door without a word, stepping out into the cool night air. My legs were shaky, like they barely remembered how to carry me. The elevator ride up felt eternal, with him standing silently behind me. The space between us was wide, even though we stood only a few feet apart.
When the apartment door opened, I walked in first.
Still, I didn't say anything.
I didn't even glance back.
