Before love Lies
I whispered.
The words felt dangerous. Forbidden. Real.
The line stayed open, my mother listening, measuring. Finally, she spoke again—cool, distant, unchanged.
“Then you will have to learn,” she said, “that love is a liability.”
The call ended.
I lowered the phone, staring at the empty street where John had vanished. Somewhere out there, he was running—fighting—surviving. And I was the reason he’d learned to stop trusting.
I told myself I had done what I was raised to do.