The drive back to the loft was quiet.
Not angry.
Not even really sad yet.
Just stunned.
That kind of silence where the pain hasn’t fully landed because your body is still deciding whether to go numb or break.
Landon gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles had gone white.
He hadn’t stopped apologizing until ten minutes in, when I finally told him if he said I’m sorry one more time, I might actually throw myself from the moving vehicle.
So now he said nothing.
Which somehow felt worse.
The city lights blurred past us in long streaks of gold and white.
Prom dress still on.
Corsage still tied around my wrist.
Hair still curled.
Like the universe had forgotten to end the fairytale properly before dropping me into the next chapter.
When we got to the loft, I didn’t even
