The days that followed became a quiet, dangerous game.

Her mother moved through the house like always — morning coffee, evening news, tired smiles — while underneath it all Chloe and Nathan kept finding each other. A hand on her lower back when her mother turned toward the stove. His body pressing hers into the pantry door for three stolen minutes of rough kissing and his fingers shoved inside her shorts. Late at night, after the house went still, the soft creak of her bedroom door and the heavy weight of him covering her.

Every time felt riskier. Every time felt hotter because of it.

On the fifth night the...