Streetlights flickered to life one by one as evening settled in.
Reflections moved across the glass like drifting memories.
She was aware — painfully aware — of the occasional glance he cast toward her through the rearview mirror. Not intrusive. Not obvious. But present.
Observant.
Concerned, perhaps.
She did not turn.
If she looked at him, she feared the fragile control she had gathered throughout the day would fracture.
Her thoughts spiraled quietly.
She liked him.
No — that word was too small.
Something about him had settled under her skin in a way she could not explain, could not dismiss, could not reason away. It had begun as curiosity, sharpened into challenge, softened into fascination… and somewhere along the way, without permission, it had become something deeper.
But f
