A married couple drives in silence until the wife calmly says, “I want a divorce.” After more than twenty years together, her words cut directly through the quiet.
The husband does not reply but instead presses the gas, the car moving steadily faster—first 45 miles per hour. His silence is heavy, matched only by his grip on the steering wheel.
The wife goes on, making it clear that she does not want him to “try and change” her mind. Her decision is final. Then comes a deeper wound—she admits she has been unfaithful.
The affair is not with a stranger, but with his best friend. To sharpen the pain, she adds that this man is “a better lover,” a cruel confession meant to leave no room for reconciliation.
Still, the husband offers no words. His answer is found in action as the car speeds up again—55 miles per hour, his hands locked tightly on the wheel. The tension grows, silence fighting against betrayal, leaving the moment suspended in uncertainty.
