The Ice Cream and the Olive Branch

The night was still silver over the city when Julian’s car rolled down the quiet streets. The headlights washed over the wet asphalt, turning the world into a blur of white and gold reflections. Inside the car, there was silence, not the heavy kind, but the quiet that lingered between two people who didn’t know what to say.

Chloe sat in the passenger seat, licking a small cup of matcha ice cream, her gaze fixed on the glowing skyline. Her blonde hair was ...