“Dylan,” I said, my voice firm despite the chill of my damp dress. “This isn’t about the video. It’s about what you did and what it shows about us. I told you not to. You promised you wouldn’t. And then you did it anyway.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but my father interjected. “This isn’t a conversation, Dylan. This is a conclusion,” he said, his voice calm but final.
The remaining guests were gradually informed of the situation. Some were understanding, others awkwardly tried to navigate the social intricacies of the unexpected turn of events. But regardless of their reactions, one thing was clear: my father’s support anchored me in the storm that had erupted out of nowhere.
