Author's point of view

Lysander's fingers tightened around the steering wheel. The car sat still, the engine silent. His eyes— cool, calculating— stayed fixed ahead, then a quiet laugh slipped out of him, half-amused half-bewildered.

"What a stubborn little wife," he murmured, more to the windshield than at her.

He ran his fingers through his hair, sighing. "A month, right..?" His gaze cut sideways, catching the faint tremble of determination on Zerina's lips. He leaned closer, ...