Claire's POV
The word home felt foreign, almost mocking, given everything that had happened.
Evander didn't move at first. He stayed seated, his hands still gripping the wheel as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded. Finally, he exhaled deeply and turned to face me.
"Claire…" he began, his voice low and steady, but I cut him off.
"Don't," I said sharply, refusing to meet his gaze. "Whatever you are about to say, it doesn't matter anymore."
I opened the door and stepped out of the car. I didn't wait for him to follow as I made my way to the door, each step feeling heavier than the last.
Behind me, I heard the car door shut, followed by his steady footsteps. I knew he wasn't going to let this go. But at that moment, I didn't have the energy to deal with him—or the emotions threatening to spill over.
