Kathleen exhaled deeply, her fingers pressing into her temples as the weight of the conversation with Christian's mother settled heavily on her shoulders. She had absorbed a barrage of words, all of which she understood at their core. If she were in the mother's shoes, she could hardly fault her for harboring such intense frustration; she might have even felt compelled to strangle her son's reckless, misguided girlfriend.
Leaning against the balcony railing, her hand remained pressed to her forehead, trying to calm the storm brewing inside her.
"I’m so sorry, love," Christian’s voice broke through her thoughts, and before she could say anything, he enveloped her in a warm embrace from behind. "I’ve already spoken with mom. She’s disappointed, but it’s not directed at you, you know?"