65_Fracture II

MIKE

The car was silent as I drove Ava home. The engine’s low hum filled the void between us, mingling with the faint squeal of wiper blades scraping against the windshield as dusk settled into cold drizzle. Her quiet sobs had stopped back at the atelier, replaced now by an eerie, defeated stillness. She sat curled into the passenger seat, arms wrapped tight around herself, her head resting against the window as streetlights slid across her face in fractured gold.

My hands ...