We’re driving, but the silence between us is louder than anything. You say something, sharp, accusing—my patience snaps like a brittle twig.

“You never listen,” you say, voice trembling but fierce.

I slam my hand on the steering wheel, eyes burning. “Maybe because you don’t say anything worth hearing!”

Your lips press tight, eyes flashing with anger. “You’re impossible, Harry. Always have been.”

“Maybe I’m just done,” I growl. “Done with your nagging, your games. I’m sick of pretending this works.”

You stare at me like I’m a stranger. “So what? You’re just going to throw me away?”

The car slows, the engine cutting off in the middle of nowhere. Trees crowd the windows. No lights, no sign of life.

I lean over, opening your passenger door and look at you coldly. “Get the fuck out of my car.”

Your phone’s dead. No signal. You’re alone.