Mom’s face went a complicated color—protective and annoyed. “Daniel is capable of deciding for himself,” she said, sharp and true. “And he chose me.”
The conversation became something brisk and brittle. Clara asked questions about Mark’s business, insinuations about the wisdom of being associated with someone who had once been “involved in a situation”—she didn’t use words I wanted to parse, but her meaning was clear: she was fishing for a scandal, or a lever to show Daniel that this choice came with risk.
The thing about gossip is that it doesn’t always need to be true to exert power. A hint here, a raised eyebrow there—people lean into narratives because it gives them something to hold. And in a small town people talk loud enough to drown out nuance.
When Clara left that evening, her
