"I said get out of my car. Now!" the driver barked again, sharper this time, the edge in his voice filling the tight space of the cab.
Roman didn't move. For a second, he just sat there, his chest rising unevenly, his fingers curled loosely in his lap as if he'd run out of strength to even argue.
"Please…" His voice came out rough, thinner than he intended. His shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him all at once. His eyes glistened, the weight of everything pressing down hard. "I need your help."
He swallowed, his throat dry. "If you throw me out now," he continued, quieter, "I'll lose it. I don't have the strength to fight the whole world anymore."
The words hung between them.
The driver looked at him, really looked this time, and then something in his expression shifted. The tension in his face eased, just a fraction. Then, with a low breath, he reached for the door and pulled it shut.
