Chapter 4: the stranger

Amelia.

The bus rattled along the darkened highway, its frame creaking and groaning with every bump and jolt in the road. The hum of the engine was a constant, low vibration that seemed to seep into my bones, and the occasional cough of the old man sitting two rows behind me punctuated the silence like an unwanted reminder of reality.

Outside, the world was a blur of shadows, the trees melding together into an endless, indistinct wall of darkness. The headlights of the bus barely pierced through the gloom, illuminating only fleeting glimpses of the road ahead. I stared out the window, watching it all pass by, my breath fogging the glass slightly. I didn't know where this bus was taking me, didn't know what would happen when I got there, and for the first time in my life, I didn't care. The not-knowing was strangely freeing, like taking the first deep breath after being underwater for too long.

I leaned my head against the cool glass, feeling its chill seep into my skin. My bag sat cradled in my lap, my arms wrapped around it like it was the only thing tethering me to the present moment. My thoughts swirled in a chaotic loop, a tangled mess of emotions-guilt, relief, fear, and something else I couldn't quite name. I'd done it. I'd actually done it. I had run away from my wedding, from my parents' expectations, and from Ethan. The enormity of what I'd done pressed down on me like a weight, but at the same time, there was a strange lightness in my chest, a faint flicker of relief that I couldn't ignore.

God, Ethan...

The thought of him sent a sharp pang through me, and I pressed my hand to my chest as if that could somehow ease the ache. Ethan didn't deserve this, and I knew it. He had been nothing but kind to me, patient when I'd been distant, understanding when I'd been unsure. And yet, I hadn't been able to face him. Not today. Maybe not ever. The memory of his face, his perfect, composed smile, hovered in my mind like a ghost, and I wondered if he was still at the mansion, searching for me, or if he'd already realized the truth and given up. Either way, the thought made my stomach twist painfully.

The bus lurched suddenly, jolting me hard enough to knock my head against the window. The sharp shock of it yanked me out of my spiraling thoughts, and I glanced around, my heart skipping a beat as I tried to reorient myself. The dimly lit interior of the bus was nearly empty, sparse and quiet. A middle-aged woman sat near the front, knitting with slow, deliberate movements that seemed almost hypnotic. Behind her, the old man coughed again, a dry, rattling sound that made me wince. Across the aisle from me, there was another passenger I hadn't noticed before.

I wasn't sure how I'd missed him. He was slouched low in his seat, his hood pulled up over his head, obscuring most of his face in shadow. His posture was relaxed, almost too casual, like he was trying to make himself invisible. But as the bus hit another bump, his hood slipped back slightly, revealing sharp cheekbones, a strong jawline, and messy dark hair that looked like it hadn't been brushed in days. He looked young-maybe my age, maybe a little older-but there was something about him that felt older, worn, like he'd seen too much of something he didn't want to.

He must have felt my gaze because he turned his head slightly, just enough to catch me staring. His dark eyes locked onto mine, and a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, the kind of smirk that said he knew exactly what I was thinking.

"You okay there?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, with an edge of amusement that made my cheeks heat.

I blinked, startled by the question and the fact that he'd spoken to me at all. "What?" I said, my voice coming out sharper than I intended.

"You've been staring out that window like it's going to give you all the answers to life's problems," he said, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. His smirk deepened as he tilted his head, studying me with an intensity that made me feel uncomfortably exposed. "Or maybe you're just trying to disappear into the glass."

I bristled at his words, clutching my bag tighter against my chest like a shield. "I'm fine," I said quickly, the lie tumbling out before I could stop it. My voice was firm, but my grip on the bag betrayed my nerves.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, and his smirk widened into something closer to a grin. "Fine, huh?" he said, his tone teasing but not unkind. "People don't usually hop on a bus to nowhere in a sweater three sizes too big and call it fine."

My cheeks burned, and I looked away, turning my gaze back to the window in an effort to shut him out. "You don't know anything about me," I muttered, my voice low but laced with irritation.

"True," he admitted easily, shrugging one shoulder like it didn't matter. "But I'm pretty good at reading people. And you've got 'running away from something' written all over you."

I clenched my jaw, refusing to let him get under my skin. Who did this guy think he was, anyway? I didn't owe him anything-not an explanation, not a conversation, nothing. I stared out the window, silently fuming, hoping he'd take the hint and leave me alone.

For a moment, I thought he would. The silence stretched between us, broken only by the hum of the engine and the occasional bump in the road. But of course, he couldn't leave well enough alone.

"I'm Liam, by the way," he said, his tone light and conversational, as if we were two strangers meeting at a coffee shop instead of on a bus in the middle of nowhere. I could hear the grin in his voice, and it annoyed me more than it should have. "Figured you should know my name since we're probably going to be stuck on this bus together for a while."

I didn't respond, but I could feel his eyes on me, waiting, like he was daring me to engage. I kept my gaze fixed on the blur of trees outside, my jaw tight, my grip on my bag unrelenting.

"Suit yourself," Liam said eventually, his voice carrying a faint edge of amusement, like he found my silence entertaining. He shifted in his seat, pulling his hood back up over his head, and turned his attention to the front of the bus.

I exhaled slowly, my shoulders relaxing just a fraction. But even as I tried to ignore him, I couldn't shake the feeling that Liam wasn't the kind of person you could easily forget.