I could see it in the way his shoulders stiffened, the way his hand dropped from the wheel.
He didn’t expect me.
Good.
If he was the reason I lost my job, if he was the reason I was standing there with nothing left, then he was going to look me in the eye and take some accountability. I was tired of just keeping my mouth shut and letting him get away with it.
He rolled the window down halfway. Cold air and silence hit us both in the face.
Joshua’s jaw was tight, unreadable. Alex’s eyes flicked between us, catching the tension instantly.
I didn’t waste time.
I yanked my phone out, screen shaking in my hand, and opened the message from my boss.
“We’ll have to let you go. With your injury, we can’t keep you on schedule. Good luck.”
I shoved the screen toward him. My voice cracked around the single word that somehow made it out.
“Y-you.”
His brows pinched together, lips parting slightly. He didn’t need me to explain.
He knew.
He knew.
His throat worked as if he were swallowing nails. “How much?”
I blinked.
“...What?”
His hand flexed around the steering wheel. “How much do you want? To make up for it?”
The world tilted.
He said it so easily, as if that was what I was worth. Like I was some broken thing he could patch up with cash.
I felt my chest cave in a little, the sting building behind my eyes.
Money. Of course he’d think money would fix it.
He took away the one thing I had left, my independence, the one piece of me I built with shaking hands and exhaustion, and he thought he could just buy it back.
My hand trembled as I lifted it to sign.
Alex’s head turned toward me instantly, his expression cautious as he read my movements.
“She said,” he began slowly, glancing at Joshua, “money doesn’t fix everything. You already took her voice, her peace, her job… you don’t get to buy your way out of that, too.”
I kept going, tears spilling faster than I could blink them away. Alex hesitated but still translated, quieter this time.
“She said you don’t understand. You don’t get it. You can’t keep hurting her and think throwing money is the same as being sorry.”
Joshua’s breathing changed, slowly at first, then heavy. His fingers flexed, knuckles white. And for once, I didn’t care if he was angry. I didn’t care if he yelled, shut down, or walked away.
He needed to hear it.
