Sarah
"Your family is very nice," I remark, gazing out the window as we drive back home, the headlights casting fleeting shadows on the road ahead.
"Yes," Matthew replies, his voice steady but distant.
"I wish...I wish mine were like this," I confess, my words trailing off into the quiet hum of the car engine.
Matthew turns his head slightly to look at me. "Your father treats you like a damn princess, Sarah," he says, his tone carrying an edge that cuts through the air.
Jeez...why does he say it like it's a criminal offense? His words linger, heavy and accusatory.
I hesitate, choosing my words carefully before breaking the silence again. "Yes, that's true, but..." I begin, my voice tinged with uncertainty.
"But what?" he interjects impatiently, his eyes fixed on the road, yet his mind clearly elsewhere.
"It's nothing. Don't worry about it," I say and look out the window.
We don't talk for the rest of the drive.
