His pulse beat hot in his ears. A flush of embarrassment crept up his neck—not because he had lost control, but because once again, someone had decided his discomfort wasn’t worth fixing. And now he could feel it — the subtle shift in the carriage.
People staring. Quiet, sidelong glances from behind books and laptops. No one said anything, but he knew that his voice had cut through the room, and now he was part of the scene. The guy who spoke up. The guy who made things awkward.