After a small talk to the patrol huge policeman with a belly of a mother, Alec’s black sedan purred quietly along the damp street, the city lights glinting against the raindrops that still clung to the windows. I sat in the passenger seat, my back straight, arms wrapped protectively around a sleeping Aliya, while Jaya leaned against the opposite door, snoring softly, her little legs tangled in the seatbelt.
The silence in the car was thick but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that made you think—reflect. Alec’s fingers tapped softly on the steering wheel, his eyes trained on the road ahead. He hadn’t said much since we left the hospital. Just quiet glances and the occasional clearing of his throat, like he had more to say but couldn’t find the words.
“We’re close,” he said f
