Ruth

Ruth's thoughts were abruptly interrupted as she felt Ethan's firm grip on her arm. She turned to face him, her eyes meeting his towering figure. He seemed so much taller in this moment, a physical presence that was hard to ignore. But it was his eyes that held her attention, devoid of any emotion, cold and distant.

"Get in the car," he commanded, his voice low and authoritative.

He didn't give her much choice Before she could react, Ethan's gentle push guided her towards the back of the car. With one hand on her back, he steered her forward, his touch both commanding and oddly protective. His other hand settled on top of her head, a gesture that felt almost possessive, yet calculated.

As if in a daze, she allowed herself to be led, her mind struggling to catch up with the rapid turn of events.

Before Ruth could fully comprehend what was happening, she found herself being ushered into the car.

The sequence of events happened so quickly that she barely had time to react.

The door was slammed shut behind her, leaving her momentarily stunned in the confined space.

As she sat there, her mind raced with a mix of confusion and frustration. She couldn't believe the audacity with which Ethan had just taken control of the situation.

Her instinctual reaction was to rebel against his actions, to assert her independence and demand an explanation.

Ruth's frustration grew when she attempted to open the car door, only to find it locked. Her irritation intensified as she shot a glare at the assistant seated in the driver's seat. The assistant's presence felt like an unwelcome intrusion, a reminder that she was now effectively trapped in this situation.

As Ethan approached the car, Ruth's mind raced. She was determined not to sit with him, not after the way he had handled her moments ago. Her sense of autonomy and dignity had been challenged, and she wasn't about to let it slide.

"How dare he handle me like that?" she seethed internally, her anger simmering beneath her composed exterior.

As Ethan rounded the car, Ruth's decision solidified. She had made up her mind—she would not sit with him, no matter what.

"Mrs. Westwood, what are you doing?" his assistant inquired, a hint of confusion evident in her voice.

Undeterred, Ruth was resolute in her actions. She squeezed through the cramped space between the two front seats, her determination propelling her forward. She was thankful for her choice of clothing, realizing that the situation could have quickly become awkward otherwise.

With a disregard for formality, Ruth quickly made her way to the passenger seat, occupying it before anyone could protest. Her actions were driven by a need to assert her independence and maintain a sense of control over the unfolding events.

The resounding slam of the car door echoed her husband's disapproval, a clear indication of his thoughts on her defiance. Yet Ruth remained resolute, caring little for his opinion at that moment. The atmosphere in the car was thick with tension, suffocating almost, a silent testament to the discord that had arisen between them.

A quick glance in the rearview mirror revealed Ethan's glare, his anger palpable. Ruth, however, was undeterred by his intense gaze. She turned her attention away from the mirror, deliberately ignoring him as she sought refuge from the strained atmosphere surrounding them.

As she settled into the comfortable seats, exhaustion washed over her unexpectedly. A loud yawn escaped her, and she found herself sinking deeper into the plush car seat. The events of the day, the confrontation with Ethan, and the underlying emotions they had stirred seemed to catch up with her all at once.

Before she could even comprehend it, the embrace of sleep enveloped her. The tension in the car, the enigma of their complex relationship—everything faded into the background as her consciousness drifted away. The drama of their lives took a temporary pause as Ruth surrendered to the peaceful oblivion of sleep.