Robert's POV...
The city outside Patricia's estate was loud at night—a cacophony of car horns, distant laughter, and bass-heavy music bleeding from somewhere down the street. I'd never noticed it before. For ten years, I'd lived in silence. In Patricia's driveway. In the frigid space outside her door, where I could hear her soft footsteps but never her voice.
Now, I was driving through streets I didn't recognize, past neon signs and crowded sidewalks, past bars and clubs where people laughed like their hearts had never been broken.
My face still burned where the bowl of soup had shattered against my skin. My eyes blurred from the sting of the broth or the sting of her words—I couldn't tell anymore. But I kept driving.
It's better to be loved by someone you don't love than to love someone who will never love you back.
My sister's voice. Patricia's voice. Mine now.
