Zoe's POV
Becoming Zoe
The drive to the Donovans' apartment was quieter than I expected.
Not uncomfortable.
Not forced.
Just quiet in the way that happens when two people are carrying more than words can hold.
Seth drove with both hands resting lightly on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. The morning sun spilled through the windshield in soft golden ribbons, brushing across his jaw and the loose strands of his blond hair. His face looked tired.
Not physically tired.
Emotionally tired.
The kind of exhaustion that sleep couldn't fix.
I sat beside him with my hands folded in my lap, watching familiar streets pass by outside the window. London looked beautiful that morning. Cafés were opening. Cyclists glided through intersections. People walked their dogs with coffee cups in hand.
The city had moved on.
It didn't care that families were breaking apart.
It didn't care that I had found my sister after years of believing she was dead.
