“I don’t even care about college,” she says, flipping her hair like it’s a full argument. “It’s stupid. Nathan’s not going either.”

You freeze mid-step. Your eyes narrow so hard I feel the temperature shift.

“Nathan?” you repeat, deadly calm. “You’re not even supposed to have a boyfriend.”

Our daughter shrugs. “Well, I do. And he understands me. Unlike this house.”

I choke on my tea.

You’re fully facing her now. “Your grades are tanking, and now you’re telling me you’re dropping college plans for some boy I didn’t even approve?”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s not about him. I just don’t want to waste my life doing what you want.”

Oh, shit.

I take a tiny step back toward the doorway. You’re quiet now. That dangerous kind of quiet.

“Say that again,” you say, voice low and deadly.

She doesn’t even blink. “I’m not you. I don’t want the same life.”

I swear I feel your blood pressure rise across the room. Your hands are already on your hips. I’m standing here holding a mug, fully expecting a sandal to fly any second.

I clear my throat. “Should I—uh—should I maybe go… grab my car keys and run away?”

You don’t even look at me.