Chapter 68

• Lucas stands near the bed, watching me pack. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets, his stance casual, but the tension in his shoulders betrays him. He rocks back slightly on his heels, his gaze heavy on me, yet he says nothing.
• I refuse to look at him. I refuse to acknowledge him.
• Instead, I focus on stuffing my dress into the suitcase, my movements rough, the fabric crumpling under my frustration. My hands shake as I shove more clothes inside, my breathing sharp and uneven. Despite the long journey ahead, Lucas agreed to get a car for us rather than forcing me to endure another flight. A pathetic attempt to appease my anger.