Vincent’s car pulled up just as I stepped out of the hospital. The cold night air brushed against my skin, carrying the faint smell of disinfectant from inside. My heels clicked against the pavement as I walked toward him, my bag heavy at my side.

He opened the door for me without a word, his sharp eyes scanning my face before I slid into the seat. The silence in the car was thick, the kind that pressed against your chest and made it hard to breathe.

As the city lights blurred past the ...