The world rarely objects when love is fragile.
It waits.
It watches.
And when love grows strong enough to threaten old systems, old fears, and old pride—the world pushes back.
Hard.
Lala felt it first in her mother’s silence.
Not anger.
Not shouting.
Silence—the kind that carries judgment heavier than words.
They sat across from each other at the dining table, steam rising from untouched food. Her mother’s hands were folded, her eyes distant, as if she were already mourning something.
“You’ve changed,” her mother finally said.
Lala nodded. “I’ve grown.”
Her mother sighed. “Love has made you reckless.”
Lala’s chest tightened.
“No,” she said softly. “Love has made me honest.”
Lala’s Family: Fear Disguised as Protection
Her family did not hate Daniel.
They feared him.
Feared
