Her reaction confirmed my worst fears.
Something was very wrong.
“Emma, I just want to help,” I said softly, stepping inside her room.
She backed away, her arms wrapped around herself defensively.
“Why did you look in my stuff?” Her voice was a mixture of hurt and accusation.
“I wasn’t snooping,” I explained, my voice steady but gentle. “The note was sticking out, and I was worried.”
She looked down, her expression still guarded.
“It’s nothing,” she mumbled, turning away.
I hesitated, unsure how to reach her.
“If it’s nothing, then why are you so upset?” I pressed, trying to strike a balance between concern and pressure.
