The moment I walked into the house, I already knew I was in trouble. My mother stood in the living room with her arms crossed, her face tight with worry. I could see the questions in her eyes before she even opened her mouth.

“Carlota, do you know what time it is?” she asked. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was enough to make my heart squeeze. “Where have you been? You came home too late.”

I tried to stay calm. My clothes were still a bit dusty from the garage, and my hair was ...