The next day, I decided to reach out to the school.
It felt like a breach of Emma’s trust, but as a parent, I had to prioritize her safety.
When I spoke to the school counselor, I kept the details vague, respecting Emma’s privacy as much as possible.
“I’m concerned about some things my daughter has mentioned,” I said, choosing my words carefully.
The counselor listened patiently, offering to keep an eye on Emma during school hours.
I left the call feeling slightly more at ease, knowing there was someone else looking out for her.
That evening, I made Emma’s favorite dinner, hoping to create a moment of normalcy.
As we sat together, the atmosphere seemed lighter, but the underlying issue remained unspoken.
“I talked to someone at school today,” I mentioned casually, watching her reaction.
She stiffened but didn’t say anything.
“I just want you to know that there are people who care about you,” I added.
Emma nodded, her expression unreadable.
It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
For now, I had to trust that she would come to me when she was ready.
And until then, I would be there, quietly supporting her in any way I could.
Note: This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered.
