As predicted, Ben brought nothing but a medium-sized backpack. I half-expected an insulting good morning or a comment about how much I had overpacked, but there was an unspoken tension lingering after yesterday's lunch, so I kept quiet.
An awkward silence enveloped us, not the kind born from a lack of conversation, but the kind where every word feels like a risk.
I truly didn't know what I had done, or if I had done anything at all. Maybe it wasn't me.
"Hey," I said, a bit nervous.
"Hey, Al."
He opened his mouth, then shut it again, almost as if hesitating to say something. I waited, the air thick with anticipation.
He looked up, searching for the right words.
"So, about yesterday," he began, his tone taking on an aggressive edge. "I just want you to know that I'm completely fine, and I don't want anyone's pity." He crossed his arms, chin raised defiantly, as if he was expelling whatever emotions he had pent up.
"I don't pity you," I replied simply. I understood what it was like to live without one parent, and I certainly didn't want pity either.
"I lost my dad," I explained quietly.
We both turned away, my eyes fixed on the road ahead while his stared out the window. No further explanation was needed, and the silence fell again—this time devoid of tension, just two people lost in their own thoughts.
. . .
The sun had just begun to sprinkle blue light across the horizon, casting a beautiful glow. I gazed from behind the wheel, captivated by the sunrise.
"It's so—"
"Beautiful," he finished for me.
"Yeah," I murmured, still awestruck. "There's something about sunrises that makes me feel so..."
His stomach grumbled audibly, interrupting my thoughts. "Hungry," he deadpanned.
He just had to ruin the moment.
"I'm actually really hungry," he whined.
"The green bag in the trunk has some sandwiches," I pointed out.
"I don't like sandwiches," he grumbled.
"Well, no worries. You can just starve then," I smiled brightly.
"Wouldn't you love that?" he replied, reaching behind for the bag. He tore open the wrapping and hungrily devoured two sandwiches.
"You sure you didn't poison these or something?" he asked skeptically, his mouth full.
"You never know. If I did, I'd never tell you; it ruins the element of surprise, you know?" I replied, maintaining a serious expression.
He raised an eyebrow suspiciously but shrugged it off.
"Put one in my mouth," I said, realizing I couldn't hold the sandwich while driving.
He shoved the entire thing in.
"Not the entire thing—you—" I choked.
The brakes squealed as I stopped the car abruptly.
We both paused for a moment to regain our composure.
YOU ARE READING
Ticking Secrets At Maydale
Mystery / Thriller" My eyes widened in realization, a small gasp escaped my lips. The solution- it had been under my nose the whole time. All I need to do now is destroy it..." Far across hills and deep through meadows, lies a little village called Maydale. a br...
