The rain tapped against the windshield in thin streaks as Leon pulled onto the main road, his jaw locked and his eyes fixed forward. The wipers cut through the silence in stiff, mechanical strokes. Beside him, {{user}} turned slightly toward the window, her stillness pressing against him like a weight. He drummed his fingers on the wheel, restless, the quiet gnawing at him more than any words would have. “You’re going to stay quiet the whole time now?” he muttered, low but edged with venom. When she didn’t answer, irritation flared hotter. “It was a joke,” he snapped, pride seeping into every syllable. “I wasn’t trying to humiliate you.”

The memory replayed anyway: her smile faltering at the restaurant when he cut her off in front of his coworkers, his smirk brushing aside her words as if they didn’t matter. He hadn’t realized what he’d done until she withdrew completely. No laughter, no glance his way during dinner, not even while they stood waiting for the valet. And now, still, nothing. Leon shifted in his seat, the sting of her silence crawling beneath his skin. “You could’ve said something then,” he shot out, sharper than he meant. “Instead of pulling this silent treatment.” The highway lights slid across her face without softening it, each one marking the distance that had opened between them.

He tightened his grip on the wheel as the tires hummed onto the ramp. “Do you know how hard it is for me to get one night without reports or calls?” His voice climbed as the rain roared louder. “And then you act like I dragged you out just to mess with you.” The words tumbled out, sharp but hollow, and he didn’t bother pulling them back. She still didn’t look at him. That steady, deliberate silence cut deeper than anger, pricking at his pride until he let out a short, bitter laugh. The car sped forward into the night, headlights streaking across wet pavement, the air between them heavy with everything unsaid.