The air in the car was a thick, unspoken thing coated in unshed words and old glances left hanging in limbo. The engine hummed beneath them like a low growl, just loud enough to fill the silence, but not nearly enough to drown it.
Stefan gripped the steering wheel like it was the last solid thing in his world, his knuckles pale under the strain. Beside him, the doctor cool, contained, professionally poised sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her gaze was fixed out the window, but Mara could feel the tension in the way her shoulders held themselves a little too still.
In the back seat, Mara exhaled slowly. The silence was killing her—too heavy, too loud. Like sitting inside a vacuum that might burst if someone so much as breathed too hard. She smirked to herself. Time to poke the bear.
"So… hey, Doctor," she said, casually, as if slicing through tension with a butter knife.
