Confrontation

The night air was still, thick with the weight of all that had been left unsaid. Yvonne sat at the bus stop, her knees hugged to her chest as she stared vacantly into the distance, the coolness of the evening seeping into her bones. The streetlights bathed her in a pale glow, casting shadows across her hollowed eyes and rigid posture.

Micheal’s car screeched to a halt a few feet away from her, his heart pounding as he spotted her fragile figure. Without thinking, he threw open the door and rushed toward her. His legs carried him to her in a sprint, his breath heavy with both relief and dread.

"Yvonne," he called softly, crouching in front of her. His voice cracked, his hands trembling as he gently lifted her chin, tilting her face towards him. Her skin was icy under his touch, her cheeks pale except for the redness that marred her right side.

Her eyes, dull and lifeless, barely registered his presence.

"Baby," he whispered, slipping his jacket off and wrapping it around her shoulders.