Abigail's POV
As the car rolls to a stop in front of the school gates, my stomach twists into a tight knot.
I sit in the back seat, clenching my bag like it’s my lifeline.
The driver turns to me with a polite nod. “We’ve arrived, Miss Abigail.”
“Thank you,” I mumble, my voice barely above a whisper.
My fingers fumble with the door handle. The school looms ahead, an imposing building with a crowd of students mingling around the entrance. They all seem so comfortable, chatting and laughing like they’ve known each other forever.
I step out of the car and feel a wave of anxiety wash over me.
The morning’s events replay in my mind—Nathan’s cutting words at the breakfast table, his refusal to drive me, and that last reminder, his threat.
My cheeks burn as I imagine him sneering,
“
