“Hey,” he said softly, “you’re still up?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting away.
I held up his phone. He froze.
“Is this true?” I asked, voice shaking but steady enough.
He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting away. “Claire… it’s complicated.”
“Complicated?” I repeated. “You’re sleeping with my mother.”
He laughed nervously, like he could charm his way out of it. “You’ll understand, eventually. These things just… happen.”
Something in me snapped quiet. I didn’t scream. Didn’t cry.
I just nodded. “Okay,” I said. “If that’s how it is.”
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