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“I’ve…I’ve never chosen a single thing for myself.”

That admission seems to gut her more than the rest.

“My parents made every decision for me. It was just expected that I’d follow their rules. I was raised to follow instructions. To know my place. Every hour of my day was scheduled. Every outfit picked to send the right message. They chose my school, my major, even my sorority. When I said I wanted to study languages, they said that was impractical. That good girls study business. I’d be more helpful to my husband that way.”

She pauses, staring out past the trees.

“I thought that was normal. That if I followed the plan, the rest would come. That I’d learn to be happy eventually. But I wasn’t even living. I was only doing what they wanted me to.”

She takes in a long deep breath and exhales slowly.

“I didn’t agree with them. But I didn’t push back either. I told myself it wasn’t a big deal. One compromise, then another. Until it stopped feeling like compromise and started just feeling normal.”

I keep my eyes on her and nod. Letting her know I hear her.

“I’ve never lived alone. I went from my parents’ house to my sorority house and back. I’ve never had a job. I don’t even know how to rent an apartment, or buy a car.”

I lean back on the rail, letting my arms rest across the top. “You’re not alone in that. Most people learn that stuff as they go.”

She lets out a soft muffled sound.

“It’s more than that. I’ve been so sheltered and controlled. I’ve never dated. I’ve never been kissed. I’ve never had sex. I’ve never even had an orgasm.”

Her eyes go wide. She slaps both hands over her mouth.

“Oh my god,” she says through her fingers. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

I do everything in my power not to laugh. Not because it’s funny, not really, but because the sheer horror on her face says it all.

She groans and sinks forward, pressing her forehead to her knees. “Can we pretend I didn’t say that?”

I clear my throat, trying to keep my expression neutral. “Sure. But for the record, you’re not the only one.”

She peeks out at me, cheeks flaming. “You mean?—”

“I mean you’re not the only person who’s made it this far without figuring out their own body,” I say carefully. “You’ve been living in survival mode. That doesn’t leave a lot of room for pleasure.”

She blinks, then nods, still clearly mortified.

I wait until she looks up again before I speak. “You’re not broken, Ani. You’ve just never been allowed to explore who you are. But you’re here now. Andyouget to decide what comes next.”

She exhales through her nose and drops her head back against the porch rail behind her.

“God,” she mutters. “I ran away from a wedding and now I’m talking about orgasms with a stranger.”

I laugh this time. I can’t help myself.

“I always thought I’d figure it out later. When I was married. When I had a husband who could help. That was the plan.”

Silence stretches between us again, but it feels easier this time. Lighter.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this,” she says, more to herself than to me. “It’s not even noon and you already know more about me than most of my friends.”

I shrug. “People talk to me. I’m not sure why. But I just try to stay quiet and listen.”

“You are easy to talk to…thank you.” She looks away again like she’s bashful about what she just said. I think back tothe conversation Boone, Jonah and I had last night, and I’m absolutely certain this girl is not a threat in any way.

She’s beautiful, but not in the polished way she probably spent her life being told to be. Olive skin, thick brows that frame her eyes. Her features are classic, but there’s nothing fake about it. No gloss. No showiness.