Alice’s POV
Since yesterday — after Brian said his piece and left the hotel room —
I hadn’t seen him.
He didn’t sleep at the hotel.
I was guessing he went back to his house.
We hadn’t spoken — apart from the text message he sent later that night:
Grumpy: Be ready at 8:00 a.m.
At exactly eight, someone named Kyle knocked on my door.
He helped with my bag, and I followed him to where the car was parked —
finding Brian already seated inside, absorbed in his phone.
Kyle opened the door for me, and I slid in beside him.
The drive to the airport was cloaked in silence.
The leather seat was cool against the backs of my legs.
I sat stiffly, hands folded in my lap, hyperaware of every breath, every tiny shift in the space between us.
Across from me, Brian sat like a man carved
