Divorced My Husband And Found Love
I slouched against the leather seat, scrolling through my phone while Jace drove, both hands tight on the wheel and the sun highlighting his profile.
The car was silent. I shattered the silence with the delicate sound of my own voice, aiming for humor.
“You ever wonder if pigeons think humans are fat, featherless birds?” I asked casually, not looking up from my phone.
Nothing.
“Because like… imagine a pigeon watching us walk down the street. They’d be like, ‘Wow, Karen, look at that guy. Her wings never came in. Poor thing.’”
Still nothing.
I glanced up, waiting for a response, even a twitch. His eyes flicked toward me for half a second, then back to the road. Not a laugh, not even a smirk,
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