The sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room.
It’s time to face the day, to step out of the shadows of uncertainty.
The drive to the doctor’s office feels fraught with expectation.
Every red light, every slow car in front of me feels like an obstacle to answers.
My son sits quietly in the back seat, looking out the window.
We arrive, and the waiting room is a familiar place of soft chairs and subdued colors.
The receptionist smiles, her hands moving deftly across the keyboard.
We sit, each tick of the clock echoing in the quiet room.
My son shifts beside me, his small hand slipping into mine.
“It’ll be fine, Mom,” he says, mirroring the words I’d spoken so many times before.
