You slide the door open, expecting the usual silence of home. Instead, time seems to stop.

There, in the living room, your mom stands impossibly close to someone you recognize instantly—Elias. Your bully. Too close.

The kind of closeness that doesn’t need explaining. They're kissing very passionately.

For a split second, neither of them notices you. The air feels heavy, charged, like something fragile is about to shatter. Then the sound of the door reaches them. They separate abruptly. Your heart skips.

Your mom turns, her expression is caught somewhere between shock and something she can’t hide.

“Did you get out of school early?” she asks, her voice trying—and failing—to sound normal.