Morning arrived with a muted light filtering through the curtains, a gentle nudge toward the day ahead. Heather moved through the motions of breakfast, her mind already at the conference, the conversations she dreaded.
Ava sat across the table, her eyes focused on her cereal, lost in thought. Heather watched her daughter, the subtle changes over the past months a map of worry etched across her heart.
“You ready for school?” Heather asked, breaking the quiet.
“Yeah,” Ava replied, her voice distant.
The walk to school was brief, their steps echoing in the morning air. Heather felt the distance between them, a physical presence that had grown with each passing day.
At the school gate, Ava hesitated, a moment of pause before stepping into the building. Heather watched her daughter disappear into the crowd, a mix of pride and helplessness swirling within her.
The day passed slowly, each hour stretching longer than the last. Heather’s mind circled back to Ava, to the conference, to the questions she had no answers for.
When the time finally came, Heather found herself seated in a sterile office, the walls adorned with motivational posters that offered little comfort.
The teacher entered, her expression neutral, a professional mask that Heather had come to expect. The conversation began, each word a step deeper into the reality she couldn’t ignore.
“Ava’s been distant in class,” the teacher stated, her tone matter-of-fact.
Heather nodded, the words echoing the concerns that had kept her up at night.
“We’ve noticed a change,” the teacher continued, “and we want to work with you to support her.”
Support. It felt like a lifeline and a burden all at once.
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