We argued long after she locked her bedroom door. Martin wanted to drive to the café, and confront Graham face-to-face. “This ends now,” he said. I shook my head. “If you push, she’ll only run further. We’ll lose her entirely, don’t you see that?” My voice trembled with dread.
We tried to reclaim control the only way we knew how: rules. A stricter curfew, daily check-ins by text, and warnings about keeping us informed. Nora nodded politely, but the compliance was thin as paper. She followed just enough to avoid open rebellion, and no more.