In a quiet, upscale neighborhood in New Jersey, 17-year-old Chloe was lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to the rhythmic snoring of her parents in the room across the hall. Her father, a strict high school principal, and her mother, a lawyer, had always kept a tight grip on Chloe’s social life, forbidding her from dating until she went to college. But downstairs, crouching in the shadows of the backyard, was Leo, her secret boyfriend of six months. With a heart hammering against her ribs, Chloe slowly pushed open her window and signaled for him to climb the old oak tree that reached toward her balcony. She had practiced this dozens of times in her head, planning the exact movements to keep the floorboards from creaking under their weight. Leo slipped into the room like a ghost, the cool night air following him inside as they sat on the edge of the bed, whispering in voices so low they could barely hear each other. They felt invincible, hidden away in their own private world while the rest of the house slept in total, oblivious silence.
