1

The morning sun filtered through sheer white curtains, casting everything in Julia's bedroom in a soft, innocent glow. At twenty years old, her room still looked like it belonged to a girl half her age—floral bedspread, a shelf of well-worn classics, and inspirational quotes in ornate frames on the walls.

"Modesty is the highest elegance," read one.

"Guard your heart above all else," proclaimed another.

Julia sat at her antique desk, the same one her grandmother had used, working through her final homeschool assignment. Even though she'd officially graduated two years ago, her mother still insisted on "enrichment studies" during her gap years. Latin. Classical literature. Advanced biblical theology. Nothing that would prepare her for the real world.

"Julia, dear!" Her mother's voice drifted up the stairs, as gentle and controlling as always.

"Breakfast is ready. Your father wants to say grace before he leaves for the church."

"Coming, Mom!" Julia closed her Latin grammar book and studied her reflection in the mirror above her dresser.

Pale skin that rarely saw sun. Long brown reddish hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. Eyes that her grandmother once called "old soul eyes"—dark, thoughtful, perpetually serious. She looked exactly like what she was: a sheltered girl who'd never been to a public school, never been to a party, never even been kissed. The dining room table was set with her mother's good china, as it was every morning. Her father sat at the head, already reading from his worn leather Bible. Her younger brother, Thomas, played with his napkin, clearly bored with the routine.

"Ah, Julia." Her father looked up, his kind eyes crinkling.

"Come, sit. We have exciting news.

" Julia's heart skipped. Exciting news in the Morrison household usually meant a new Bible study series or a visiting missionary. But her father's smile seemed different today—wider, more genuine.

"You've been accepted to the university," her mother said, her voice tight with mixed emotions.

"The Christian university we applied to. You'll start in the fall semester." Julia's fork clattered against her plate.

"University? But I thought—"

"Your mother and I have been praying about this," her father interrupted gently.

"You're twenty years old, Julia. You need... exposure to the world. In a controlled, godly environment, of course."

"Of course," Julia echoed, her mind reeling. University. Real university. With other students her age. Classes taught by professors, not her mother. A campus. Freedom. Well, supervised freedom.

"There are conditions," her mother added quickly, as if reading Julia's thoughts.

"You'll live on campus, but we expect weekly phone calls. No parties. No drinking. And certainly no boys. You're there to get an education in elementary teaching, nothing more."

"No boys until you're ready for a God-ordained courtship," her father clarified.

"With proper supervision and our approval, of course." Thomas snorted into his orange juice. At sixteen, he was already chafing under the same restrictions that had defined Julia's entire life.

"I understand," Julia said, trying to keep her voice level. Inside, something was unfurling—a tiny seed of rebellion that she hadn't known existed.

"Thank you for this opportunity." Her mother relaxed slightly.

"We trust you, dear. You've always been such a good girl. We know you'll make us proud." Good girl. Julia had heard those words her entire life. Good girls don't question. Good girls don't complain. Good girls certainly don't have impure thoughts about freedom and independence and discovering who they are outside their parents' shadow. But as Julia finished her breakfast and helped her mother clear the dishes, she caught her reflection in the window above the sink. For just a moment, she imagined a different version of herself—someone bold, adventurous, unafraid. Someone who made her own choices.

"Julia?" Her mother's hand on her shoulder made her jump. "Are you alright? You seem distracted."

"Just thinking about the fall," Julia said truthfully. "It's a big change."

"Change can be frightening," her mother agreed, pulling her into a tight hug. "But remember—you're a Morrison. We don't compromise our values, no matter what temptations the world presents. Promise me you'll remember that?" Julia hugged her back, breathing in the familiar scent of her mother's lavender perfume. "I promise, Mom." It was a promise she would break within two weeks of arriving on campus. But standing in her mother's kitchen that summer morning, with sunlight streaming through pristine windows and the smell of her father's coffee still lingering in the air, Julia Morrison truly believed she could remain the good girl everyone expected her to be. She had no idea how quickly innocence could shatter. Or how badly she would want it to…

Four months later, Julia stood in the doorway of her dorm room, barely recognizing the girl who'd made that promise in her mother's kitchen. The transformation had been gradual but undeniable.

"Oh my God, Jules, are you going to wear that?" Kate Reynolds, her roommate and unlikely best friend, looked up from where she was applying her third coat of mascara.

"Please tell me that's not your clubbing outfit." Julia looked down at her knee-length denim skirt and modest blouse. "What's wrong with it?"

"Everything!" Kate bounded over, her energy as boundless as always. At five-foot-two with platinum blonde hair and a personality that could fill a stadium, Kate was everything Julia wasn't—and everything she was starting to want to be. "We've been over this. You're in college now. You're allowed to show some skin."

"Some skin, not all skin," Julia protested, but she was already reaching for the dress Kate had insisted she buy last week. A simple black number that hit mid-thigh and had a neckline that would give her mother heart palpitations. Kate had appeared in Julia's life like a hurricane on the first day of freshman orientation. While Julia had been sitting alone in the cafeteria, trying to look invisible, Kate had plopped down across from her with a tray full of food and an enormous smile.

"You look like you need a friend," Kate had announced. "Lucky for you, I need a roommate. My last one transferred. You in?" Julia should have said no. Should have found someone from the campus Christian fellowship. Someone safe and predictable. Instead, she'd said yes. That single decision had changed everything.

"There we go!" Kate crowed as Julia emerged from the bathroom in the black dress. "Now you look like a college student instead of a Victorian governess. Although we really need to do something about your hair."

"My hair is fine," Julia protested, but she was already sitting at Kate's desk while her roommate pulled out her styling tools. Through the mirror, Julia watched as Kate worked. In four months, Kate had become the sister she'd never had—teaching her about makeup, music, fashion, and the thousand tiny freedoms Julia had never known existed. How to order coffee from a menu instead of making it at home. How to choose her own classes instead of following a predetermined path. How to have opinions about politics and religion that differed from her parents'. How to want things for herself.

"So," Kate said casually, running a straightener through Julia's long dark hair. "I may have forgotten to mention that Voltage is, like, the hottest club in the city." Julia's eyes widened in the mirror.

"Kate! You said we were going to a casual lounge." "I said we were going out. You assumed lounge." Kate grinned, completely unrepentant. "Come on, Jules. You've been here four months and the wildest thing you've done is skip morning chapel twice. You're twenty years old! You should be having fun."

"My parents—"

"—are three hundred miles away," Kate interrupted gently. "I'm not saying go crazy. I'm just saying... live a little. Experience things. Make some mistakes. That's what college is for." Julia stared at her reflection. The girl looking back at her was almost unrecognizable from the one who'd arrived on campus in August. Her hair fell in sleek waves past her shoulders. The dress hugged curves she'd been taught to hide. And her eyes—those "old soul eyes"—held something new. Hunger.

"One drink," Julia heard herself say. "And we leave by midnight." Kate squealed and hugged her from behind. "Yes! That's my girl. Oh, you're going to love Voltage. The music is incredible, and the guys..." She fanned herself dramatically. "Trust me, it'll be an education your homeschool curriculum definitely didn't cover." As Kate continued chattering about the club, Julia felt a flutter of nervousness in her stomach. This was it—the line she'd been dancing around for months. Going to a nightclub wasn't just breaking her parents' rules. It was stepping fully into a life they'd never approve of. She should feel guilty. She should call it off. Instead, she felt alive.

"Hey," Kate said, suddenly serious. "If you're really not comfortable, we don't have to go. I'll never push you to do something you don't want to do. You know that, right?" Julia met her friend's eyes in the mirror and smiled. "I know. But I want to go. I'm just... nervous."

"Nervous is good. Nervous means you're trying something new." Kate squeezed her shoulders. "And I'll be right there with you. I won't let anything bad happen, I promise."

Two hours later, Julia would think back on that promise and wonder how Kate could possibly have kept it. How could anyone protect someone from themselves? From their own choices? From the consequences of a single night that would ripple through their entire life? But standing in their dorm room, with music playing and Kate dancing around while she finished getting ready, Julia felt nothing but excitement.

"Come on," Kate said, grabbing her purse and Julia's hand. "Our Uber's here. Time to show you what Friday night is really like." As they left the dorm and headed into the cool October night, Julia took a deep breath. Somewhere in the distance, church bells were ringing—calling the faithful to evening service. Julia walked in the opposite direction.