Chapter 3 A Ride Toward the Unknown

The New York morning was crisp and quiet, the streets still rubbing the sleep from their eyes. A faint mist curled along the pavement, softening the sharp edges of the city. Antonella tightened Jason's borrowed jacket around her shoulders as she stepped outside, the oversized fabric swallowing her small frame.

Jason was already waiting by a sleek black car parked along the curb. Not flashy, not ostentatious. Practical. Understated. It suited him-this man who radiated strength without needing to announce it.

He opened the passenger door for her without a word, his hand brushing the small of her back as she slipped inside. The touch was light, almost absentminded, but it sent a ripple down her spine all the same.

Once behind the wheel, Jason started the engine, and for a few moments, they sat there, the heater humming softly, neither speaking. Antonella stared out the window, her fingers absently twisting the hem of the jacket.

It should have felt awkward. It should have felt unbearable-this silence with a man she barely knew.

But somehow, it didn't.

Somehow, the quiet between them felt... safe.

"Where to?" Jason asked, his voice low.

Antonella bit her lip, hesitating. Home meant memories she wasn't ready to face. Home meant the dress she had picked out for the engagement party, the pictures still pinned to the fridge of a future that had evaporated.

"I... I don't know," she admitted, her voice small.

Jason glanced at her, then back at the road. He didn't push, didn't ask questions she wasn't ready to answer. Instead, he simply pulled away from the curb, guiding the car into the slow morning traffic.

"How about coffee first?" he offered. "Real coffee. Not that watery stuff from my kitchen."

A laugh escaped her-a real one this time, light and unexpected. "You're really bad at selling your own coffee."

He shrugged, a faint grin tugging at his mouth. "I know my limits."

They drove in easy silence, Jason's hand loose on the wheel, his posture relaxed. Antonella found herself stealing glances at him, trying to piece together the puzzle of this man who had stumbled into her life at the exact moment she needed him most.

There was a small café tucked into the corner of a side street, almost hidden by the creeping vines that framed its windows. Jason pulled in without hesitation, like he knew the place well. He parked, killed the engine, and turned to her.

"You trust me enough to come in?" he asked, his tone teasing but layered with something deeper-a genuine concern for her comfort.

Antonella nodded. "Yeah. I do."

The inside of the café was warm and cozy, the air rich with the scent of roasted beans and vanilla. Tiny twinkle lights were strung across the ceiling, casting a soft golden glow. It was the kind of place that felt untouched by the chaos of the city outside.

Jason led her to a booth in the corner, away from the few other early patrons. He ordered two coffees-strong and black-along with a couple of pastries she hadn't realized she was hungry for until they were sitting in front of her.

For a long while, they just... existed. Sipping coffee, picking at buttery croissants, sharing occasional smiles without the pressure of conversation.

It was Antonella who finally broke the silence.

"You don't ask a lot of questions," she said, wrapping her hands around the warm mug.

Jason leaned back against the booth, his gaze steady. "Figured you've had enough of people wanting things from you."

Her throat tightened unexpectedly.

"Thank you," she said, and she meant it with every bruised, battered part of her.

Jason's lips curved into the barest hint of a smile. "Besides, I figured you'll tell me when you're ready."

They finished their coffee slowly, neither of them in any rush to rejoin the real world. And for the first time in a long, long time, Antonella felt something she thought she had lost forever.

Hope.

When they finally emerged into the brightening morning, the city was starting to buzz to life around them-horns honking, people hurrying by with coffee cups and newspapers tucked under their arms.

Jason pulled the car around, and Antonella hesitated at the curb, uncertainty gnawing at her.

"I guess you can take me home now," she said, her voice quieter than she intended.

Jason studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Or," he said slowly, "I can take you somewhere else. Somewhere you can breathe."

Antonella blinked up at him, her heart thudding hard against her ribs.

"Where?" she asked, almost afraid of how much she wanted to say yes.

Jason smiled then-a slow, private smile that made something deep inside her stir.

"You'll see."

They drove north, away from the crush of the city, the skyline shrinking in the rearview mirror. The roads grew quieter, winding through patches of green and stretches of open sky. Antonella rolled down the window, letting the cool spring air whip through her hair, the unfamiliar scent of damp earth and possibility filling her lungs.

It felt reckless. It felt insane.

It also felt like the first real choice she had made in months.

Finally, Jason pulled onto a narrow dirt road flanked by towering trees. At the end of the drive, a small lake shimmered in the sunlight, its surface so still it looked like glass.

Jason killed the engine but didn't move to get out. He turned to her instead, his expression serious.

"I come here when I need to think," he said quietly. "Or when I need to remember who I am."

Antonella stared at the water, at the trees reflected so perfectly on its surface they didn't seem real.

"It's beautiful," she whispered.

Jason shrugged like it was nothing, but the look in his eyes told her it meant everything.

They sat there for a while, the engine ticking softly as it cooled, neither of them speaking. There was no need.

The world spun on outside of them, fast and frantic and full of noise. But here, in this small pocket of stillness, Antonella felt herself start to breathe again.

Slowly, carefully, Jason reached over and took her hand.

He didn't lace their fingers together. He didn't pull or demand.

He simply held it-solid and warm and real.

Antonella closed her eyes, a single tear slipping down her cheek.

For the first time in a long time, she wasn't holding herself together out of sheer willpower.

Someone was holding her, too.

And maybe... just maybe... she didn't have to fall alone.