My Blind Husband Saw Everything
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Summary
It was past 2:00 AM, and the city of Seattle was draped in a cold, relentless drizzle. I had just picked up a high-end designated driver request.
A young woman was sprawled across the backseat of a pristine Porsche, her phone held high as she FaceTimed someone. She looked like she’d stepped out of a glossy magazine—effortless, expensive, and entirely oblivious to the world I inhabited.
“I told you a used car would be fine for practice,” she pouted into the screen, her voice a melodic whine. “Why did you have to send a Porsche?
