Emily
Adrian picked me up from work.
As usual, he was discreet.
He waited in the underground parking lot instead of pulling up at the entrance like he had the first time we met after work
I'd warned him, and I was still surprised he actually listened.
The underground parking lot was dim, quiet, the hum of engines and the faint echo of footsteps bouncing off concrete walls. I spotted his car immediately.
Even if there were a hundred identical vehicles parked there, I would still know which one was his.
Daniel stood outside the car, ever composed.
When he saw me approaching, he gave a small nod and opened the back door without a word.
Sometimes I wondered what he thought of us.
Of me.
Of these stolen evenings.
If he judged.
If he pitied.
Or if he had simply learned that silen
