Martin grew silent and watchful. He scribbled down her return times and compared them with her class schedule. “She’s not lying about school,” he admitted grimly. “But she’s lying about everything else.” His words sank deep, a weight I couldn’t shake off. In my experience, truth half-told was more dangerous than outright lies.
One night, I heard her whispering into her phone, her voice low and even. I caught only fragments: “Yes… I’ll be ready… I promise.” This was our daughter’s promise to a man we didn’t know. I froze in the hallway, terrified of stepping forward and shattering her fragile secret world.