Nancy’s POVI didn’t let Andrew drive me home.He offered, twice actually, his voice calm but insistent, his hand already reaching for his phone like the decision had been made without me. I shut it down immediately. I didn’t want to sit in another car with him, didn’t want the silence, the tension, the way his presence made everything feel heavier and sharper all at once.He had massaged the balm into my ankle and his hands on my skin brought back memories that I would have preferred stayed buried. Being in the same space with him was getting more and more difficult.“I’ll take an Uber,” I told him, already pulling my phone from my bag.He frowned. “Nancy. Your ankle—”“I can manage,” I said firmly, meeting his eyes. “It’s just a sprained ankle Andrew. I’ve survived worse.”He looked like he wanted to argue, and for a second, I thought he might. Then his jaw tightened and he nodded once, stepping back like he was giving me space, but it didn’t feel like space. It felt like restraint.
Magbasa pa