Love. She wondered now if it was ever worth chasing. Her head rested against the car seat as he drove—forty miles over the speed limit. Nothing slowed him down. Not the lights, not the traffic. The road was empty, like even the city wanted this to end quickly.

She glanced at him. His jaw was tight, his hands locked around the wheel. She knew the strength in those hands. Turning back to the window, she watched the landscape blur past—faster than time, slower than the fall of his love.

The music was loud, too loud, but it didn’t fill the silence between them.

They reached her parents’ driveway sooner than she wanted. The sunset washed the house in gold. Somewhere inside, soft jazz played, a sound too gentle for the weight in her chest. His door opened, then slammed shut.

He walked ahead. Once, he would have opened her door, rested a warm hand on her back. Now, he didn’t look back—until he did. Their eyes met. His were cold, angry. Hers, tired but unyielding.

Love is unprotected she thought. Not with vows. Not with laws. It shifts, rises, collapses—like weather. One day warm, the next a storm. She had felt it all. She’d tried to hold on, to build safety out of hope, but it slipped through anyway.

He turned and went inside, closing the door behind him. She sat there, wanting to run—fast and far—but he had the keys.