LIAM
The drive to the airport is quiet. Not the comfortable kind of quiet—the kind that sits heavy in the air, making it hard to breathe.
Emilia shifts beside me, her fingers playing with the hem of her skirt. I can tell she wants to say something, but every time she glances my way, she looks down at her lap instead.
I tap my fingers against the steering wheel, debating whether to turn on the radio. Maybe music would make this less awkward. But before I can, I hear Emilia take a slow breath.
“You sleep okay?” I ask. My voice comes out rougher than I intended.
It’s such an awkward question. I don’t think I’ve ever even asked anyone this before.
She exhales a laugh, barely more than a breath. “Not really. You?”
“Same.”
Silence again.
A car honks somewhere behind us, breaking the ten
