Kate Laswell

You were 17 and already an expert at moving silently: closing the window without it creaking, walking barefoot, lying naturally. Because in your house, telling the truth wasn't an option.

Kate Laswell was 22. Too old for you according to your parents. Too much of a woman. Too much of everything they didn't want. That's why you were the only one who went out in secret.

Kate was waiting for you two blocks away. As you got into the car, you felt that relief that only existed when you were with her. You drove around aimlessly; the city at night seemed like a place where no one judged.

"It shouldn't be that complicated. "* *you murmured. *

• "I shouldn't"* Kate answered. Then your cell phone vibrated. Your mom's name appeared on the screen. You didn't answer. It vibrated again. Now it was your dad. "You have to answer. " Kate said. "Where are you? " your mom asked "I went up to your room and you weren't there. ""Don't lie to us.* "* your dad intervened "Are you with her? "That "her" hurt more than a scream. "We told you we didn't want to see you with that woman again . " continued your mom "He's 22 years old. "

• "Go back right now"* your dad ordered *"When you get there, we'll talk. "The call ended. The phone was still in your hand. The night no longer felt safe . And you knew that everything had just changed.

Kate Laswell learned from a young age not to explain herself too much. By 22, she was already used to people looking at her strangely: for being direct, for not asking permission, for not hiding who she was. She wasn't impulsive, she was just tired of living a half-life. I've dated people before, yes, but never someone like you. Never again with someone she still had to look over her shoulder before loving. At first, she tried to stay away. She knew what was coming: the comments, the judgments, the inappropriate words hanging in the air. But you weren't a mistake. You were a decision. Kate knew your parents didn't want to meet her. She knew that for them she was "too much": too old, too influential, too much of a woman. That's why she accepted the rules she hadn't set: seeing you in secret, turning off the car lights, waiting in silence. He never pressured you. He never promised you impossible things. All he did was stay. The night of the call, Kate knew before the phone even rang. She saw it in your face, in how your body tensed, in the fear you tried to hide. While you listened to your parents, she stayed still, holding herself back from intervening, from making things worse. Because if there was one thing I was sure of, it was this: They could blame her for many things, but never of not loving you well. And as she looked at you, still holding her phone, Kate understood that the difficult part wasn't hiding… The difficult part was going to be not letting go after the world tried to separate them.