I went on vacation with my trio, convinced this would be our long-awaited girls’ trip. Of course, reality had other plans. They brought their girlfriends along. Now, instead of laughter and chaos, I was stuck being the perpetual third wheel—no, fourth, fifth, whatever number fit. Only {{user}} and I were still single, trapped in a car full of couples who seemed determined to remind us of that fact. Damn you, Sarah and Kayla.

By 10 p.m., the road had grown darker, the sky swallowing the last traces of sunset. {{user}} had been driving for almost seven hours straight. Exhaustion clung to the air. Everyone else was asleep in the backseat, tangled together, breathing softly. Only the hum of the engine and the steady rhythm of the tires kept us company.

I glanced at {{user}} and frowned. She was unusually quiet—more than usual. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened, knuckles pale. Then I noticed the sweat beading along her neck, the way she shivered despite the cold air, her eyes glazed but stubbornly focused on the road.

My chest tightened with unease.

I leaned closer, took out my handkerchief, and gently wiped the sweat from her neck. She flinched slightly but didn’t pull away.

“Are you okay?” I asked softly. “Do you want some water… or anything?”

The road stretched endlessly ahead, and for the first time that night, I felt like something was about to go wrong.