Not flashy.
Just expensive in the quietest possible way.
Glossy paint. Dark windows. Engine so smooth it barely made a sound.
The passenger window lowered.
Miguel stopped.
It was her.
The same woman from the flood.
Only now she looked entirely different.
No smudged mascara. No panic. No mud. Her hair was perfect, her coat replaced with a tailored black one, and her expression was composed enough to make the whole morning feel unreal.
“You missed it,” she said softly.
Miguel let out one dry laugh.
“Yeah.”
She studied him for a moment. “Because of me.”
He shook his head.
