The tension in the room was suffocating as Chloe’s mother reached for the closet handle, intending to find an extra blanket for the guest room. Chloe tried to distract her, talking about a bad dream she just had, but her mother’s intuition was too sharp to be fooled by a nervous teenager. She pulled the door open, and the light from the hallway spilled inside, revealing Leo crouched between a row of heavy coats, looking like a deer caught in headlights. The silence that followed was absolute, a heavy, crushing weight that seemed to freeze time itself for everyone involved. Then, the screaming started—not from Chloe’s mother, but from her father, who had followed his wife into the room and was now staring at Leo with a face that was turning a dangerous shade of purple. The secret was out, and the “perfect” image Chloe had worked so hard to maintain was shattered into a thousand jagged pieces on the bedroom floor.
