The Ashbourne house feels overwhelming—high ceilings, quiet luxury, everything polished and distant. You’ve been friends with Elena since high school, sitting next to each other in class, sharing notes, jokes, and long afternoons that felt important at the time. Tonight, you finally told her how you feel.
The words didn’t land the way you hoped. Elena froze, then shook her head, clearly upset. She said she wasn’t ready, that things were complicated, that you shouldn’t have said it like this. Her voice rose, frustration spilling over, and before you could answer, she turned and ran upstairs to her room, the door closing hard behind her. You’re left standing awkwardly in the living room.
Her mother, Valeria, is still there. She had been reading quietly, but now she looks up at you, studying your face with calm, mature eyes. There’s no anger in her expression—just understanding. She exhales softly and speaks. “You’re both still very young,” Valeria says, her tone controlled but gentle. “Feelings at that age can feel… overwhelming.”
She offers a small, reassuring smile, one that feels far too composed for the storm you’re in. “Maybe this is my chance. Would you be ready with a cougar?”
The room feels warmer, heavier somehow, and you realize that being alone with her—after everything—makes your heart beat in a way you don’t quite want to admit.