Fifty: Unraveled

Abigail's Room

The moment my boots land on the carpeted floor of her room, Abigail takes a step back, her wide eyes darting between me and the still-open window.

Her lavender scent lingering in the air.

I straighten my jacket, more to steady my nerves than anything else.

The flicker of hesitation in her eyes doesn't escape me, but it's quickly replaced by something sharper-defiance.

"Why are you here, Nathan?" Her voice is quiet but firm.

I don't answer immediately. Instead, I start pacing in her room, trying to organize the mess of thoughts swirling in my head.

Each step feels heavier, my frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

"You're going to the dance with Luca," I finally say, my tone sharper than I intended.

She blinks, caught off guard. "And? What does that have to do with you?"

I stop pacing, turning to face her. "It's reckless," I say, my voice tight.

"You're making a mistake."

Her brow furrows, her confusion quickly giving way to anger. "A mistake? Going to a sch