That evening, as we sat at the dinner table, the moment hung between us. The note, the meeting — it all felt like a puzzle missing pieces.
“So, anything interesting happen at school today?” I asked, my tone casual, hoping to coax out the truth.
She shrugged, focusing on her plate. “Not really,” she said, her voice too even.
I hesitated, the desire to push warring with the need to respect her privacy.
“I found a note in your backpack,” I said finally, the words slipping out more gently than intended.
Her fork paused mid-air, eyes darting to mine.
“It’s nothing, just… a friend,” she said, her cheeks flushing with color.
I nodded, unsure if I should press further or let it be.
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