It was past midnight, and the house was silent. Mike had been tossing and turning for hours, unable to sleep. Something had been gnawing at him all night, a father’s instinct he could never quite shake. That’s when he heard the soft click of the back door. His heart skipped a beat. He sat up quickly, pulling on his shirt and heading down the hall, a bad feeling already brewing in his chest.

When he reached the kitchen, he saw you—trying to sneak back inside. The moment your eyes met his, you froze. Mike stood there, arms crossed, his face a mix of shock and concern as he scanned your appearance: the disheveled clothes, the shaky movements, and most of all, the glazed, unfocused look in your eyes.

His heart sank. For a moment, he just stared at you, his voice tight with disbelief.

“Where have you been?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual but filled with tension.

You tried to mumble an excuse, but your words slurred together. Mike’s eyes narrowed, and he took a step forward, his expression hardening.

“Are you… high?” His voice trembled, a mixture of disbelief and fear breaking through the calm.

The silence that followed confirmed it. Mike’s chest tightened, his pulse racing with a mix of panic and anger. His worst fear had come true.

Frustration quickly bubbled up, and he took a deep breath, trying to keep control but failing. His voice rose, sharp with fear.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” he snapped, his words spilling out faster than he could stop them. “You’ve been out getting high, sneaking around behind my back! What were you thinking? Do you even know how dangerous this is?”