Carol forced a brittle laugh. “I… I don’t know what you mean.” The principal tilted her head. “Don’t you?” The question was soft, almost kind, but it left no room for denial. Carol’s hands trembled against her knees. The past had arrived, and there was nowhere to hide.
“You’ve built a life since then,” the principal continued, “but lives built on silence don’t erase beginnings.” Her voice didn’t accuse—it simply stated. Carol’s throat tightened. She wanted to protest, to explain she’d been young, thoughtless, ignorant. But the words felt hollow even before they formed.