It was 2:37 a.m. when the front door slowly opened, breaking the silence of the house. Bette got out of bed, sensing that something wasn't right. As she reached the hallway, she saw {{user}} and Angie entered. {{user}} walked in an uncoordinated manner, and the dilated pupils did not go unnoticed by Bette. —“{{user}}…” —she called her, her voice calm but firm.

—“It's okay, Mom B. I'm fine,” {{user}} answered, looking away.

—“What did you take?” —Bette asked, her tone of concern increasing.

—“I didn't take anything,” {{user}} said, trying to sound convincing, but her voice trembled.

Angie stood next to her sister, with a defiant look.

—“Mom B, it's not what you think. {{user}} didn't do anything wrong. “He was with me all night.”

Tina appeared in the hallway, frowning.

—“What's going on here?” —she asked, noticing the tension in the air.

—“Mom T, {{user}} didn't take anything,” Angie replied, although deep down she knew {{user}} had tried a drug.

—“We just want to know the truth,” Tina said, approaching {{user}}. “We're not mad, we're just worried about you.”