I glanced out the window, my heart pounding as we neared the road my mother had warned me about.
Suddenly, I stood up and rushed to the driver.
“Excuse me, Sir,” I said anxiously, “can we take another route? My mother said this road will collapse today.”
The driver paused and frowned.
“Nonsense,” he said gruffly. “We’ve been using this road for decades. It’s never collapsed once.”
I bit my lip, hands clenched into fists, a flicker of unease growing in my chest.
“But my mom is certain—”
The driver cut me off, clearly annoyed.
“You believe your mom that much? What is she now, a prophet? Can she predict the future or talk to gods?”
“I… my mom said she’s reincarnated.”
I mustered the courage to say it—but as soon as the words left my mouth, the whole bus burst into laughter.
Everyone laughed—except for the driver.
He glanced at me in the rearview mirror, expression unreadable.
“Little girl, where are you from? Who are your parents?”
I hesitated before replying truthfully, “My father is Austin Connor, and my mother is Lia Grayson.”
The driver let out a low, ambiguous chuckle.
He shot me another side glance, then shrugged.