As soon as the light turned green, Peter slammed on the gas, feeling the fury pulsing through his veins. Every muscle in his body was tense, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. His eyes stayed locked on the road, but his mind was trapped in a whirlwind of emotions, all revolving around her. It was always her.

Dinner with his parents had started off well—or at least that's what he'd thought. Sure, his mom had never been a fan of her; he knew that from the first day he introduced them. There were always those subtle comments, those disapproving looks that sometimes cut deeper than any words. But this time... this time, she had crossed a line Peter couldn't ignore. She had raised her voice at his mother, his mother. The scene had left him frozen, watching her yell at the woman who raised him, the same woman who had always been his rock. He had to drag her out of the house, feeling the weight of humiliation like an anchor in his chest.

"Do you even fucking realize the shit you pulled, huh?" he snarled, his voice cracked with rage as he swerved sharply into an alleyway, his temporary refuge from a world that felt like it was falling apart. Her silence only made him burn hotter, as if her lack of response was a silent challenge. "Do you even fucking realize the shit you pulled?!" he shouted, his voice bouncing off the car's walls as he slammed his fist into the steering wheel, as if trying to somehow release the humiliation and anger consuming him. He wanted to hit her non-stop.