Every Sunday, the same scene: my 14-year-old daughter locks herself in her room with her boyfriend. A polite, smiling boy, always with a perfect “Good morning, ma’am.” Nothing to complain about, really. And yet, every week, a little voice in my head whispers: “What if they’re doing more than just talking?”

I’ve always considered myself an open-minded mother, even a modern one. But that Sunday, my imagination ran wild. The kind of scenario we all silently imagine, out of curiosity, out of worry… and because we’re terribly human.

When my imagination took over,
I thought I heard their giggles, and then nothing. Absolute silence.

I stood frozen in the hallway. My heart was pounding like a marching band drum. And then, without thinking, I turned the doorknob.

The lamp emitted a dim light. I took a deep breath… ready for anything. Or so I thought.

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