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I immediately dart my eyes away, heart slamming so hard behind my ribs that it echoes in my ears, drowning out everything else. I wish I had listened to Valentina, had just kept my gaze down like she told me to. I force my breathing to slow, to even out, but it does nothing to calm the panic flaring under my skin. My fingers tighten around my jeans, nails pressing in, desperate for something to ground me.
Where the fuck was Valentina? How long had she been gone? I can’t sit here, not like this, not when every muscle in my body is screaming at me to move, to run. Time feels like it’s stretching, warping, like I’ve been sitting here for hours instead of minutes. The young man shifts, moving slightly, and I glance back despite myself.
Bad move.
His eyes catch mine again. It’s brief, just a fraction of a second, but it’s enough. It’s too much.
My stomach twists violently, and for a moment, I feel like I’m going to be sick. I know that look, that stunned, frozen look of someone piecing things together in real time. His lips part like he wants to say something, maybe even call out, but he hesitates. And then—
He turns his head slightly, signaling to someone.
My breath stops.
A friend? Someone else in the station? Is it a cop? Someone who knows my face, who’s been looking for me? My brain is moving a mile a minute, but my body is frozen in place, my limbs locked as if they don’t belong to me. My mind is already jumping to the worst possible conclusion—that this is it, this is the fucking end, that within seconds, the cops will be here, pulling me out of this car, slamming me to the ground, tearing me away from my son forever.
And then, like a goddamn miracle, Valentina steps between us.
She moves so smoothly, so effortlessly, that it’s almost like she planned it. One second the boy is staring at me like he’s seen something he shouldn’t have, the next he’s face-to-face with her. His expression shifts, like he’s startled, caught off guard. Confused.
I can’t hear what she says, but I watch his reaction closely. His posture stiffens first, shoulders tensing like a rabbit about to bolt. His eyes flick down, darting away, like suddenly he doesn’t want to be seen, doesn’t want to be involved. His face pales just slightly, and then—
Fear.
Whatever Valentina says, it works. His lips press into a thin line, his hands drop to his sides, and he turns his back to me entirely. No more looking. No more signaling. He practically shrinks into himself, like he wants to disappear.
My heart is still racing, my body still buzzing with adrenaline, but I force myself to stay still as Valentina strides back to the car, yanks open the door, and slides in. She doesn’t look at me as she puts the key in the ignition, doesn’t speak as the engine purrs to life. Only when she pulls out onto the road, the station shrinking behind us, does she finally break the silence.
"Don’t worry about him," she says, eyes on the road, voice level. "He won’t be a problem."
I swallow, my throat dry, my pulse still too fast. "What did you say to him?"
She doesn’t answer right away. She just grips the wheel tighter, the tension in her fingers visible. Then, after a moment, she exhales, like she’s shaking something off, and glances at me out of the corner of her eye.
"I told him," she says, voice cool and unwavering, "that if he didn’t forget he ever saw you, I’d make sure he never saw anything ever again."
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