Zoe's POV
The first sensation that washed over me wasn't anger. It was confusion—a sharp, disorienting kind that rattled through my chest like loose change clinking together in an old tin can. I stood frozen, grappling with the sight before me: Brandon stood rigid beside his truck, his silhouette stark against the fading twilight, while Casey danced around him with an air of confidence, effortlessly curling herself into his personal space as if she had every right to occupy it. My mind raced, a whirlwind of thoughts frantically scouring for any semblance of logic in the chaos unfolding before me.
