Chapter 49: Yell at me!
The hum of the engine filled the car, a low, steady growl that did nothing to ease the tension thickening the air between them. Ethan’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening as his gaze flicked toward Mara. She sat motionless, her silhouette framed by the blur of passing streetlights, her face turned away, staring into the void beyond the window. The silence was deafening, unnerving—a stark contrast to the storm he had expected.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade, sharp and urgent. He couldn’t help himself; the words tumbled out, raw and unpolished. "You’re unusually quiet, and that’s... worrying." His eyes darted back to the road, but his mind stayed fixed on her, on the eerie stillness that clung to her like a shroud.
He had expected something—anger, tears, even a fight. Anything but this. This silence was worse. It was a void, a chasm that swallowed every sound, every emotion, leaving behind only the hollow echo of what should have been. He had acted on instinct, driven by a desperate need to get her away from the Shepherd, away from the danger that had coiled around them like a predator. But now, as the miles stretched on, he realized he had no idea what to do with this version of Mara—this ghost of the fiery, defiant woman he knew.
His chest tightened, a knot of frustration and fear twisting deeper with every passing second. "Say something," he urged, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "Yell at me. Scream. Tell me I’m an idiot for dragging you out of there. Just... don’t sit there like everything’s fine. It’s not. None of this is fine."
But Mara remained silent, her breath shallow, her hands resting limply in her lap. The absence of her voice, her fire, was a weight pressing down on him, heavier than any words she could have thrown his way. And as the car sped through the road, Ethan couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly, irrevocably wrong.
Mara had long known that Ethan wouldn’t let go easily, and she also understood that escaping him was impossible—especially with their baby growing inside her day by day. His desperate reactions no longer stirred her as they once had.
A cool, almost bitter laugh escaped her lips as she spoke, "What do you want me to say? I believe I’ve made myself perfectly clear, Mr. Anderson." With that, she turned away, deliberately cranking up the music as if to drown out any further pleas.
The car seemed to shrink around them, the air growing heavier with every passing second. Ethan’s hand hovered over the dashboard, the music now silenced, leaving only the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Mr. Anderson. The words echoed in his mind, sharp and cutting, like a knife twisting in his chest. He stared at her, his breath catching, his world tilting on its axis.
"Mr. Anderson?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it aloud might make it real. But it was real. The coldness in her tone, the way she turned her head away, the music blaring as if to drown him out—it was all real. And it shattered something inside him.
His face paled, his usual confidence crumbling under the weight of her indifference. He had expected anger, tears, even hatred—anything but this icy detachment. This wasn’t the Mara he knew. This wasn’t the woman who had once looked at him with fire in her eyes, who had fought him tooth and nail, who had made him feel alive even in their darkest moments. This was someone else entirely, someone who had closed the door on him and locked it tight.
"Mara..." he began, his voice cracking, but she didn’t flinch. She didn’t even look at him. Her gaze remained fixed on the window, her expression unreadable, her walls impenetrable.