Jericho sat on the passenger side, gazing out of the window with a moody expression on his face. The tension in the car was thick and suffocating. Belinda sat beside him, her hands gripping the fabric of her dress. She stole glances at him now and then, hoping he would say something, anything, but Jericho remained silent.

Ever since their fight, he hadn't spoken a single word to her. Not a greeting, not even sparing her a glance. It was like she had become invisible to him.

Belinda bit her lower lip, guilt was slowly eating bee up. Maybe she had overreacted, she should have trusted him instead of letting...