The car moves along the coastal road under the midday sun, the sea glimmering to our left, calm and distant, as if it’s untouched by everything happening inside this car. Violet sits beside me, silent, and I glance at her every now and then. She’s still wearing my shirt, buttoned all the way up, and even though the morning chill has passed, her hands remain clenched in her lap. She doesn’t look out the window, she doesn’t sleep—she just waits. I know what this is about.

“Aarón?” Her voice finally breaks the silence—soft, but heavy with sadness and confusion.

“Yeah?” I exhale slowly, like I’m mentally measuring each word before speaking.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s been on your mind?” she murmurs. “Why don’t you tell me what you did?”

I keep my eyes on the road, even though I knew this moment would come. Just not this soon.

“Because it’s not something you should have to carry,” I answer calmly.

“And aren’t I your mate?” she insists. “That weight should be ours to share.”

I don’t resp