Enzo's POV
I sat quietly in the passenger seat as Alaric drove us home, the hum of the car engine a soft, constant noise between us. The sky outside had turned a dusky blue, the last remnants of sunlight casting long shadows across the windshield. Alaric's hand rested on the steering wheel, his other arm casually draped, but I could feel his gaze flick to me every few seconds.
He finally spoke, his voice low but laced with concern.
"Enzo… did someone say something to you? You look lost."
I didn't look at him immediately. I just kept staring out the window, eyes fixed on nothing. My fingers were curled loosely in my lap, thumb anxiously rubbing over my palm. I didn't want to tell him. I didn't want to burden him with something so... petty. But I answered anyway, because this silence between us felt heavier than the truth.
