The clock struck midnight, and my heart sank. I knew I was late, way past when I said I’d be home. Slipping through the door as quietly as I could, I prayed she was asleep. The house was too still, though, like it was holding its breath, waiting for me to mess up.

I barely got two steps in before I saw her, standing in the hallway. She wasn’t in her usual pajamas; she was dressed like she’d been waiting for hours. In her hand, a kitchen knife glinted under the dim light. “Where you been?” she asked, her voice calm but cutting. I froze. My excuses died in my throat because I knew she didn’t want to hear them.

“I lost track of time,” I said weakly, but it sounded as fake as it felt. Her eyes told me she didn’t believe a word. That knife wasn’t about violence—it was about how deeply I’d hurt her trust. I stood there, caught, knowing I had to fix what I broke. Midnight wasn’t just a time anymore; it was the moment I realized I couldn’t keep doing this if I wanted to keep us.

© Nelly Vee