I shouldn’t be thinking about him.
But I am.
His laugh earlier. The way he looked at me when I handed him those letters. The way he said my name like it meant something steady, something that wouldn’t disappear if I blinked.
I press my lips together. Idiot.
I shift in my seat, trying to focus on the road, that's when I notice the black SUV that started driving a car behind near Aryan's house and is still behind me. I frown. Cars follow each other all the time. Same direction, same turns. It doesn’t mean anything.
I tell myself that. Once. Twice. I change lanes. It changes too.
A flicker of something cold slips down my spine. My fingers tighten on the steering wheel.
Okay.
Maybe not a coincidence.
My heart picks up—not panic yet, but awareness. That sharp, instinctive alertness that makes everything around you feel louder.
I accelerate slightly. So does it.
The air in the car feels different now. My breath comes a little shorter. This is stupid. Maybe they’re just going the same way. Maybe I’m overthinking. Maybe—The car jerks. Hard. “What the—”
The steering wheel resists my grip for a second, like it doesn’t belong to me anymore. I straighten, both hands gripping tightly now.
“Okay… okay…” My voice sounds thin. Like it doesn’t belong to me.
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, fingers digging into the leather as if I can force the car to listen if I just hold on hard enough.
“Don’t do this,” I whisper, more to myself than anything else.
I press on the brake. Nothing. Not the usual resistance. Not that familiar pushback under my foot. My stomach drops so fast it feels like the ground has disappeared beneath me.
No.
No, no, no.
I press harder. Still nothing. The car doesn’t slow. If anything, it feels like it’s moving faster.
My breath stutters.
“Okay—okay, think.”
My heart is no longer beating steadily. It’s racing now, erratic, loud enough that I can hear it over the hum of the engine. I shift gears down.
The car jolts violently, the sudden resistance making the tires screech for a second before it stabilizes again—but it doesn’t slow enough.
Not nearly enough.
The road ahead stretches too long.
Too open.
Too fast.
The black SUV is still there in the mirror. Close. Too close. Watching.
A cold, crawling realization settles into my bones. This isn’t random.
