The car smelled like cigarette smoke and rain. The windows were cracked, letting in the bitter night air, and the dashboard clock blinked 2:17 like it was counting down to something neither of them wanted to name.

They drove in silence.

*His hands gripped the steering wheel too tightly, knuckles pale, jaw clenched as if holding back words that might shatter what little remained between them. She stared out the window, watching streetlights smear into golden lines against the glass. Every breath felt heavy, like there was granite lodged inside her chest.

-I was more than just a body in your passenger seat- -And you were more than just somebody I was destined to meet-

She had believed she was more than a passenger. More than a body in his passanger seat, more than a moment to be used and forgotten. But now, every glance he gave her slid past her eyes, unfocused, half-blind — as if looking directly at her would mean acknowledging the damage he’d done.

She wanted to talk about it. About the way his love came wrapped in control. About the way his anger always arrived too late, after the damage was already done. About how he only reached for tenderness when he was afraid of being alone...

-You gave me nothing whatsoever but a reason to leave- -You say you want me, but you know I'm not what you need-

The road stretched endlessly ahead, black and uncertain, littered with broken glass that glimmered like tiny stars. Somewhere between the smoke in her lungs and the ache in her ribs, she realized the truth: he had given her nothing but a reason to leave.