As the meeting progresses, my daughter remains silent, her presence a quiet protest.
We discuss college plans, the logistics of it all, but my mind drifts back to the papers.
Afterwards, when the meeting ends, my husband leaves the room, his phone in hand.
I watch him go, the gap between us widening with each step.
My daughter lingers, her eyes finally meeting mine, a challenge in their depths.
“You know something, don’t you?” I ask, my voice a quiet plea.
She looks away, her silence more telling than words.
There’s a moment, a shared understanding, but she doesn’t speak.
I feel the weight of what remains unsaid, the truth hovering just out of reach.
The house feels different now, every corner holding a whisper of secrets.
