Her independence arrived in quiet ways. She began budgeting, packing her own lunches, and speaking casually about long-term plans. “I might apply for that nonprofit internship,” she mentioned, as if future doors had suddenly swung open. We exchanged uneasy glances. Was this his influence, shaping her steps?
I struggled with my feelings. I wanted to feel proud, but the source of her newfound independence mattered. If it were her own direction, I’d celebrate. But what if it was this older man, molding her ideas, manipulating her thoughts, and guiding her path?