My days had been routine, an exhausting cycle of work at a local coffee shop, managing the after-school pickups, and trying to hold the threads of a fragile family life together.
My son’s safety always hovered at the edge of my thoughts, alongside the persistent financial strain and the quiet tension with the landlord.
Life moved predictably enough that week, a fragile balance of obligations and worn-out patience.
But underneath that balance was a sharp power dynamic.
The landlord, a middle-aged man with little tolerance for delays or complaints, held all the cards.
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