The car glides through the streets, its engine a low, steady hum beneath us.
Moon sits in the driver's seat, his hands resting on the wheel with practiced ease, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. The world outside moves in its own rhythm, indifferent to the silence growing inside this car like a living thing.
His face is unreadable. Blank. Closed off in a way I've never seen before.
No playful smile.
No teasing smirk.
Just... nothing.
A mask so complete it terrifies me more than any anger could.
He hasn't said a word since I got in. Just one quiet command—sit—and nothing more. The engine turned over, the car pulled away, and the silence began.
I sit in the passenger seat, my hands resting in my lap, fingers fumbling with each other. A nervous habit I can't control. My thumb presses against my knuckles, then releases.
Presses again.
The rhythm is uneven, frantic, matching the beat of my heart.
