You had just returned from campus when Zion, your husband, pulled up in front of the gates in his Audi R8. The two of you were still fighting over what had happened three days ago, and he hadn’t said a word since. Even so, he came to pick you up.

When you opened the car door and slid into the seat, he glanced at you briefly, his expression cold and unreadable before turning his eyes back to the road.

“Thanks for picking me up,” you said quietly.

He didn’t respond. The silence stretched on, heavy and deliberate, as he continued to ignore you.