The car hummed along the winding road, trees blurring past the windows like streaks of green and brown. Annabelle sat in the backseat, her fingers tapping lightly on her knee, her gaze flickering between the scenery and Derek beside her. He wasn’t driving—he couldn’t, not with his blindness—but he wasn’t sitting still either. His shoulders twitched, his hands fidgeted, and his head tilted slightly, as though he were listening for something far off. He shifted in his seat, restless, like a caged bird sensing a storm.
Annabelle’s stomach tightened. She noticed that for some reason this trip wasn’t what he wanted. Derek’s grandfather’s house always seemed to be where she herself didn’t like going since she was told of her duty to marry Derek. She hadn’t been there, but seeing Derek like this
