Every Sunday, it’s 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 thought I was an open-minded mom, even a cool one. But that Sunday, my imagination ran wild. The kind of scenario we all play out in our heads, silently, because we’re curious, worried… and terribly human.

When imagination takes over,
I could hear them laughing softly, then nothing. Complete silence.
I froze in the hallway. My heart was pounding louder than a marching band drum. And then, without thinking, I turned the handle.
The lamp cast a soft light. I took a deep breath… ready for anything. Or so I thought.

And what I saw literally took my breath away: my daughter, sitting on the floor, headphones on, passionately explaining math formulas to her friend who was completely lost in front of a notebook. Around them, a battlefield of sticky notes, highlighters, and a plate of homemade cookies still untouched.

A scene that puts everything into perspective