When Everything Started to Feel… Off
Vivian is sixteen now.
Smart. Driven. The kind of kid teachers talk about in hushed, hopeful tones.
She spread her homework across the dining table every night.
Color-coded notes. Highlighters lined up just right.
I was proud.
But Mike started interrupting.
Offering snacks. Suggesting breaks.
Hovering when she said she wanted to finish.
It didn’t feel wrong enough to confront.
Just… distracting.
