You didn’t mean for it to spiral like this.

The sleet rattled against the windshield like a handful of gravel thrown over and over, the wipers smearing it into streaks that caught the glare of oncoming headlights. The heater blasted weakly, but the air between you was cold in a way no dial could fix.

The words were sharp, spit out between ragged breaths, bouncing off the cramped space of the car. His jaw was tight, a muscle ticking near his temple. Hands clenched the wheel so hard the tendons stood out like cables.

“Just say it!” you shouted, louder than you meant to. Your voice cracked, splintering under the weight of everything you didn’t want to admit. “If you’re done, then—”

“Don’t,” he barked, the word so sudden and sharp it cut straight through yours. “Don’t push me right now.”

But you did. Maybe because the quiet felt like a cliff edge, and you needed to jump. Maybe because anything was better than wondering.

“God, you’re impossible!” you snapped, the words tasting bitter.

His eyes flicked to you, just for a second—enough to let you see the frustration burning there before they snapped back to the road.

And then—

The world fractured. Tires screamed, the car fishtailing as the sleet-slick road betrayed you. A shadow of movement—another car swerving into your lane. The metallic shriek of impact. A violent spin, gravity pulling you sideways. Shards of glass burst across your vision like icy fireworks. Your seatbelt crushed you back as the air tore from your lungs.

Silence.

You blinked, disoriented, your own breath ragged in your ears. Smoke curled in the freezing air, stinging your throat.

“Hey—” Simon’s voice. Hoarse. Shaking.

You turned, and he was looking at you, eyes wide and desperate. His hand was on your arm, trembling.

“Stay with me, alright? You’re fine. You’re fine. Just—look at me. I’m right here.”