We waited for her to return that night, nerves stretched taut like wire. Nora’s face was glowing with some secret satisfaction. When I asked who she had been with, she gave the kind of smile only teenagers learn to perfect, gentle, but unreadable. “You wouldn’t understand, mom,” she said softly.
At first, I wanted to laugh it off. A study partner, maybe. A mentor. But Martin wasn’t buying the theory. He paced the kitchen, muttering about boundaries, propriety, and predators. I tried to hush him, but the knot in my stomach agreed. Nineteen was still so young!