I froze, clutching the bag, as Tanya stepped into the room, her expression no longer friendly. There was an edge to her voice that hadn’t been there before, a kind of challenge. “I was just—” I stumbled over my words, trying to buy time.
“I thought I saw something under the bed.”
Her eyes flicked to the bag in my hands, then back to my face.
“That’s not yours.”
The air in the room felt thin, stretched. “No,” I said, my voice steadying, “but it’s not yours either, is it?”
For a moment, we stared at each other.
I was acutely aware of the distance between us, the weight of the evidence in my hand. Tanya shifted her stance, blocking the door.
Panic clawed at the back of my mind, but I pushed it down.
“You should put that back,” Tanya said, her tone a mix of warning and entitlement. “Things get misplaced all the time.”
“Misplaced?” I echoed, incredulous. “This is theft.”
Tanya took a step forward, and I instinctively took one back.
“You don’t want to make a scene,” she said quietly.
“Think about your mother.”
What happened next changed everything…
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