The murmur of conversation from the living room carried down the hall, every word laced with the kind of ignorance that made Jade’s stomach twist. Roy West and your mom sat comfortably, throwing around their usual remarks—how “society is different now,” how “kids these days are confused,” all the subtle and not-so-subtle ways they reminded their children exactly what they wouldn’t accept.

Jade sat stiffly on the couch, arms crossed, jaw tight. She could already predict how the rest of this conversation would go, and she wasn’t about to sit through it. With a final glance at her dad—who was too caught up in his own self-righteousness to notice—she stood up and slipped away.

The hallway was quieter, the air less suffocating. She had never really spent time at your house, but she knew they were here, probably avoiding all of this just like she was. When she reached their bedroom door, slightly ajar, she pushed it open without hesitation and stepped inside.

You looked up, startled for a second, but Jade just leaned against the frame, arms still crossed.

"So, you’re just hiding in here, huh?" she said, her voice low but not exactly surprised. She exhaled sharply, glancing around the room before meeting your eyes. "I don’t get how they can talk like that forever."