Daphne & Casey
She shifts in her seat. Half-watching him. Half-daring him. Then she leans in, lips grazing his jaw. “Say you’re not regretting this already. Not with me.”
Casey stiffens, not from the touch, but from what she’s really asking. “Don’t do that. I’m here, aren’t I?”
“But only here,” Daphne says. “Never anywhere else.”
He almost answers, but doesn’t. Through the windshield, the city pulses in the distance—a silent factory of lights.
“What if I’m tired of hiding?” she asks, firmer now. “Of pretending we’re nothing?”
Casey looks away, dragging a hand over the stubble on his face. “This doesn’t exist without hiding, Daph.”
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She just stares back at him, waiting for him to say something different. But he says nothing. “I’m tired of being the thing you regret on the drive home,” she murmurs.
For a second, he hates her for getting this close. For telling the truth. “I don’t regret you. I regret… the mess. The way it has to be.”
“Then change it.”
He almost laughs, but thinks better of it. Just turns to her, something almost sad in his smile. “You’re delusional.”
“Thanks, asshole,” she snaps, reaching for the door.
Casey grabs her wrist, almost pleading. “Will you just stop? I didn’t mean it like that. I meant… maybe we both need the fantasy more than we admit.”
That lands. Too honest, though. Too late. Daphne shoves the door open. “This isn’t a fantasy to me, Casey. I’m not your getaway.”
She slides out. The door slams. Her heels crunch over gravel as she stalks toward her car. Casey doesn’t move. Just watches her peel away, dust in her wake, taillights fading down the hill.
His phone buzzes. It’s Lili again. He stares at the screen. Lets it buzz a second time.
This was supposed to make him feel alive. That was the bargain he made when it all began. Let it in, and maybe everything would make sense again. So why does he feel so… hollow? He silences the phone. Starts the engine. She’ll get over it, he tells himself. They always do, in the end.