The day of the meeting arrives, and I feel a knot in my stomach, tightening with each passing hour.
I drop the kids at school, my smile forced, my words mechanical.
They don’t notice, or if they do, they don’t say.
As I drive to the school, my mind races with possibilities, scenarios.
What will the counselor say?
What will they ask?
Am I ready for answers I might not want to hear?
The school building looms ahead, its familiar facade now seeming imposing and severe.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself before stepping inside.
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