"It still hits the same," Rasim muttered, his voice barely audible over the vibrating plastic of the dashboard.
The track was
Elvin gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. Beside him, Rasim stared out the window, his silhouette illuminated by the passing streetlamps. They hadn't spoken since they left the wedding hall. They didn't need to. The lyrics did the talking—a raw, mournful anthem about a love that refused to die, even when everything else had been buried. "Ölməz bu məhəbbət..." "It still hits the same," Rasim muttered, his